The Hazel-Eyed Girl
by Sammy-Jam
Summary: Scarlet Pierce a young woman from Georgia is on a daily walk when out of nowhere men in trouble with the law kidnap her & lock her in a trunk. She wakes up alone scared & stuck.What happens when she makes an escape & just a short time after she does the world falls apart from a new virus & flesh eating corpses & through a tough journey she eventually meets other survivors. DarylxOC
1. Chapter 1: Where am I?

**So, this is my first Walking Dead Fan fiction ever! I was really excited to write this and I'm so happy that I'm finally posting my first chapter :D I hope you guys find my story interesting and please feel free to review, follow, share, like, PM me, and give suggestions for my story! Anyhow, anything in this story that resembles the storyline in the Walking Dead show I do not own. I only own my OC character and any of my own ideas. **

**And as an added note the world doesn't go to shit until chapter 7 and that is where all the action picks up and all the good stuff starts :D The first six chapters basically contain background stuff, like what Rick is doing and my OC-just before the apocalypse hits and Rick goes into a coma. So I basically start off from the VERY beginning and eventually my OC and Daryl will hook up ;) So be patient and I promise it will pay off hopefully :D Thanks :D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead**

**Chapter 1: Where Am I?**

* * *

I wake up; actually, more accurately I come to. Because I wasn't sleeping, at least I didn't feel like I was just happily sleeping on my account. I had a massive headache, where it felt like someone was constantly taking a hammer and beating it against my head. I don't think I've ever had a headache as bad as the one I have now.

My stomach was also quite jumbled up. My stomach felt all knotted up and achy and it felt as if my stomach was being squeezed or compressed until it would eventually end up exploding and rip open.

'_Damn, why do I feel this way?_' I mused with myself.

My eyelids flutter open once again and at first, my vision is blurry and fuzzy, but in a matter of seconds everything is clear again, no more fuzzy black patches or splotches. Or, as clear as it can get, because darkness is surrounding every inch of where I am at. The only exceptions are the tiny streaks of light shining through some sort of crack.

'_Where am I_?' I immediately thought inquisitively to myself, all the while a little panic-stricken.

Quickly, I try to sit up, but to my dismay, I sit up too hastily while I'm still groggy and confused, and a blast of nausea slams into me with dizziness to back up my current sensation. My headache turns into light-headedness and I want to slap myself for being so stupid. All the while, my head hits something above me and I lay back down as the black splotches return and complete darkness invades my vision for a moment.

'_Way to go genius_…' I thought as I scolded myself mentally and my head unfortunately returned to its throbbing ways.

After laying down for a minute or so I blinked away the rest of the black spots and I could see the faint streaks of light again coming from some sort of crack. Curiously, I finally looked around and observed my surroundings, or what I could make out of them due to the lack of light and it was then that I finally noticed where I was at in my confined space. The back of a car; a trunk. I was in a trunk, the trunk of some stranger's car that was probably a creepy man. I could feel the sudden rush of panic set in and I could feel my skin crawl with worry.

'_ God…_' Was all I could think of at the moment.

Suddenly, I broke out in a nervous sweat and I tried to remember anything that happened before I came to in a trunk.

'_Come on think! Am I really that much of an idiot that I can't remember anything? God, come on think-think-think!_'

Man, I couldn't remember a damn thing! Why was that?

'_Well dummy, your head obviously hurts, so put two and two together_,' I thought quizzically.

Hmm, okay so if I was hit in the head, then that obviously explains the throbbing in my head and why I have this maddening headache and why I can't remember single dang thing. Thinking really hard now, I focused and finally, I remembered that I was walking down the quiet, empty, strangely peaceful town road when-

My hand flew to my nose and as soon as I put pressure on the bridge of it, I winced and squealed out a moan of pain. '_Dammit!'_ I thought bitterly. Careful now, I brushed my fingertips around one of my eyes and I felt that it was slightly warm to the touch, warmer than it should be, swollen and very tender. The slightest touch made my eye sting just a bit.

'_So, I got hit in the nose and face with something, now what was that something…_'

Closing my eyes again, I thought back and all I remembered was something hard smashing into my face and, something metal it felt like, probably a metal shovel I guessed, and as soon as the metal object made contact with my face I saw some bright spots and everything went black as I went limp to the ground and I couldn't move a muscle and my hearing faded away. I was completely out after that and now I'm locked in the back of a trunk.

'Ha, what a mess I'm in wait…what if whoever attacked me and put me in here comes back any minute now?' My consciousness rang out in my mind.

I furrowed my brows. I couldn't just sit her and wait like a sittin' duck. Now motivated, I rolled on to my stomach and crawled over, or as much as I could scootch myself over in the limited space I had, and I looked around for any sign of a trunk re-leaser. I remembered some time, quite a while ago, that I was watching the news and apparently all American cars being made were required to have a trunk release inside the trunk, which passed as a National law. And if I was just so lucky enough to be in one of those cars, I could easily find the release handle and pull it down and the trunk should pop open.

'_Seems easy enough_…' I thought smugly to myself.

With straining eyes, I felt around with my hand and all I could feel was rough scratchy carpeting.

'_Where the hell is the handle at?!_' I growled angrily.

I'll be damned if I was to let any man touch me wrong and make me do something I don't want to. That wasn't the woman I was. I didn't give in so easily.

After what seemed to be 10 minutes without any luck of finding a release handle, or even a cord, button, or toggle switch, I moved on to my other idea.

'_Maybe I could escape through the back seats_?'

Scootching over a tad bit in the cramped space, I felt around for a spot to push the back seats down. No luck.

'_Ugh! I could just tear my hair out right now, stupid sorry ass of a car_.'

Rolling back on to my back, I curled my knees up to my chest and relaxed a bit. There wasn't any need in getting myself all worked up. I needed to stay calm, I didn't want to hyperventilate and make myself die. '_How ironic would that be_?' I could figure a way out of here. I could if I set my mind to it.

Heaving a sigh, I hummed to myself, which always seemed to relax me when I got stressed out. Pretty soon I was whispering the lyrics to one of my favorite songs, The A Team.

"White lips, pale face

Breathing in snowflakes

Burnt lungs, sour taste

Light's gone, day's end

Struggling to pay rent

Long nights, strange men

And they say

She's in the Class A Team

Stuck in her daydream

Been this way since eighteen

But lately her face seems

Slowly sinking, wasting

Crumbling like pastries

And they scream

The worst things in life come free to us

Cause we're just under the upper hand

And go mad for a couple grams

And she don't want to go outside tonight

And in a pipe she flies to the Motherland

Or sells love to another man

It's too cold outside

For angels to fly

Angels to fly

Ripped gloves, raincoat

Tried to swim and stay afloat

Dry house, wet clothes

Loose change, bank notes

Weary-eyed, dry throat

Call girl, no phone

And they say

She's in the Class A Team

Stuck in her daydream

Been this way since eighteen

But lately her face seems

Slowly sinking, wasting

Crumbling like pastries

And they scream

The worst things in life come free to us

Cause we're just under the upper hand

And go mad for a couple grams

And she don't want to go outside tonight

And in a pipe she flies to the Motherland

Or sells love to another man

It's too cold outside

For angels to fly

An angel will die

Covered in white

Closed eye

And hoping for a better life

This time, we'll fade out tonight

Straight down the line

And they say

She's in the Class A Team

Stuck in her daydream

Been this way since eighteen

But lately her face seems

Slowly sinking, wasting

Crumbling like pastries

They scream

The worst things in life come free to us

And we're all under the upper hand

Go mad for a couple grams

And we don't want to go outside tonight

And in a pipe we fly to the Motherland

Or sell love to another man

It's too cold outside

For angels to fly

Angels to fly

To fly, fly

For angels to fly, to fly, to fly

Or angels to die"(Ed Sheeran).

Pretty soon I was unconscious and I fell asleep. When I awoke, I swear, my ears should have been bleeding. As a natural reflex, I swiftly covered my ears with the palms of my hands and scrunched my face up. The car I was in at the moment was moving and whoever was driving was blaring their music so loud that my eardrums hurt and it felt like they were vibrating. I wanted to scream at the person driving but one, that would be completely useless since he wouldn't even hear me, and two, that would be idiotic of me to do because all I knew, that stranger could gag me or knock me out again, which wouldn't help me in any way whatsoever.

I ground my teeth together in frustration. The music wasn't doing anything in curing my throbbing head to say the least, but was most certainly giving me an even worse headache. Not as bad as when I first awoke before, but still, a pretty bad headache that made me want to puke my guts out.

'_Well, at least there wouldn't be much puke, since I've barely eaten anything in the past few days and for the past few, whatever hours, I've been in this stupid trunk_,' I pondered to myself, while still pressing firmly against my ears with my hands to try and block as much screeching noise as I could coming from that awful music.

The deafening music went on for about another 20 minutes, half our, to say the most and suddenly the car came to a halting stop, jerking me forward and I rammed into the backseat part of the trunk.

"What the hell? Ouch!" I growled through my clenched jaw.

'_Hey…at least that god awful music stopped playing,_' my mind reminded me.

If I could right now, I would dance around happily and in joy that the music stopped finally. But I wasn't so sure of that feeling of happiness after a few minutes of silence, because that was all there was; eerie silence and nothing else. The car wasn't even moving. No sounds were made. You could have probably heard a pin drop.

'_Well…this could be more eventful_,' I thought sarcastically to myself.

I firmly believed that anticipation was worse than the act itself, and that is how I felt at the moment. Too much anticipation was bouncing throughout my mind and body. My muscles were so tense. I was pretty sure if that stranger was to open the trunk, I would fight for my life, but what if he…or she, got the upper hand? I could hold my own, I was tough, but I wasn't one to put myself out there. I kind of just took in what I received and locked it in my personal volt. I was kind of like a time-ticking time bomb; just waiting to blow up on whomever. I took everything in and locked it up, even though it still made me feel worthless deep down.

I felt like I was just a pile of dirt, a mistake; don't know why I was even born. But my Dad could always make me feel better. I definitely looked up to him. Well, I used to look up to him. He taught me everything, from working any kind of gun or weapon, to hunting, and some medical things. He used to be the in the marines. He always scolded me though for never speaking my mind. That was just me though. I was quiet and shy. Whenever my Mom and Dad would get into an argument my stomach would churn and I would feel so uneasy that I felt like I was going to get sick. Yelling always made me nervous.

Especially when my Dad found out my Mom was apparently cheating on him with her boss and their relationship got very distant and volatile. My Mom became very snappy and ornery and I was pretty sure every little thing I did was wrong to her. For god sakes, if I didn't say anything when she was yelling at me for some stupid thing she would yell at me for not saying anything and then when I went to go say something she would yell at me for talking back at her. But I just stood there, eye to eye with her as red as a tomato, with a nervous lump in my throat, my stomach churning and tears prickling at my eyes. Anger always made me cry, I don't know why, but it just happened when I would get so flustered and upset. So ultimately, I would end up being quiet and got to my room to go relax and listen to some music.

Then my Mom finally moved out, tried taking me with her, but Dad wasn't willing to give me up. So Mom gave up and just up and left the small town with her bos-new boyfriend. So I lived with my Dad for a while and slowly but surely he became bitter and mean. He stayed out with his friends for long nights, came home smelling like Jack Daniels and stale cigarettes, and would be awfully rude to me. I just didn't know why he was changing? I thought maybe I did something wrong, maybe I drove Mom away, even though I know I didn't, but still, I couldn't help but find some way to put the blame on me.

And on one night, Daddy came home and was hammered, stumbling around, and slurring his words, when we got into a pretty heated argument, well he got mad while I stayed quiet, pale-faced at first then turned beet red. I had that big lump in my throat and my Daddy said something along the lines, "Ya worthless bitch! Just like ya mom, a fuckin' whore! Who ya a sleepin' with huh? Is he a hidin' out in ya room? Answer me girl!?"

I was confused and scared. Why would I be sleeping with anybody, and especially bring home any guys? Not like any took interest in me anyhow. But still, mind you, I was 16 then. I was still a virgin, and still am to this day and now 22 years old. But I just stood in front of my Daddy, the father I used to look up to and stared wide-eyed at him and I said, "Uhh-uhm, no one?" And I said it as a question since I was so nervous and that only fueled Daddy's rage even more. He took a few strides forward and before I could even blink, he snatched me up and threw me against the wall. He then wrapped his large calloused hands around my tiny throat and I could feel the air leaving my lungs and how I couldn't breathe anymore, and I swear I was about blue and purple until he released me and my neck was so sore. The next day, Daddy was sleeping off his hangover, and I went to the bathroom and looked into the mirror and there were very vibrant bruise marks on my neck.

From then on, everything was a down spiral and Daddy only got worse, and more nights like those would happen. There would be name-calling, bruises and marks, and bleeding. Pretty soon, when I was near 18, I was getting used to it all, sort of, and I would push back and we would get into a scuffle sometimes, and that is how I became tougher. I kept telling myself that my Daddy was gone; he died a long time ago. He died when my mom left. But I don't think I ever got fully used to the beating part, because I know now that even when a man comes to close for comfort towards me I get uncomfortable and I tend to flinch, even though I know they might not mean any harm, but still, I have that natural reflex. I know I can hold my own, but I still get all fidgety, nervous, and uncomfortable. Especially around people I don't know at all. I'm all shy and quiet.

Just then, as I was recalling those painful years, the car started back up and I could feel the rumble of the exhaust on my back. Then, all of a sudden, I felt the car jerk forward, and I heard the tires squeal and I could smell the rubber burning.

'_What the heck?_' I thought to myself, thoroughly confused. '_I wonder what this_ _lunatic is in a hurry for…_'

**FADE OUT**

* * *

As the two police officers sat in their cruiser, the dispatch went off and the scanner issued sporadic crackles of chattering going back and forth between other police officers. The cops ignored the buzz of cross-chattering and the Sheriff, Rick Grimes, spoke to his fellow friend, Shane Walsh, "What's the difference between men and women?"

Shane, confused, replied, "This is a joke right?"

"Nah, I'm serious," Rick said blankly, while furrowing his brows, looking deep in thought.

Shane replied in a similar serious manner, but with a light air to his tone, "In my experience? Never met a woman who knew how to turn off a light. It's genetic. They're born thinking the switch only goes one way—on."

Rick peered at his close friend for a moment and reached for his cup of coffee in the coffee holder, and proceeded to take a sip of the dark coffee, seemingly lost in thought again. Shane continued his speech, while picking up his uneaten hamburger and went on to take a bite out of it here and there, "It's like they're struck blind when they leave the room. Every woman I've ever let have a key, swear to God, I come home and my house is lit up like a mall at Christmas time. So then my job, apparently because my chromosomes are different, is to go through and turn off every light the chick left on."

Shane sets his hamburger down and reaches for the large soda cup, filled with coke, and takes a long slurp, washing down his hamburger bits he just got done chewing up. Shane speaks again in a serious tone, "This, then, is the core basis of the male-female dynamic. The yin and the yang."

Rick glances at Shane, "That right?"

Shane chuckles and smiles, "Yeah."

Rick just speaks out distracted, "Oh," and goes back to looking intently out the window of the police cruiser. Shane goes back to eating the rest of his hamburger. Then, out of the blue Shane speaks again, "So, how are things with Lori?"

Rick, still looking out the window ominously, speaks, "She's good at turning off lights. I'm the one who sometimes forgets."

Shane's quirky grin fades and he adopts a much more serious expression, "Not what I meant."

Rick, shifting in his seat that seems to squeak with every little inch he shifted, sighs and admits to Shane, "Our night wasn't the best."

Shane rolls his eyes, "No shit, now what the hell is going on Rick?"

Rick clenches his jaw, "You sound like Lori, always asking me to tell her what's going on, but the most surprising thing is, when I tell her what's going on she seems to get impatient, like she didn't want to hear what I had to say anyway. I feel like she's pissed at me all the time for everything. I don't get it."

Shane shrugs, and speaks confidently, "Just a phase bud."

As Rick was about to say something more, the police scanner buzzes and catches both the attentions of Rick and Shane. The Dispatcher sounds off a quickened voice, "All units available are needed. In progress right now-high speed pursuit on Highway 20. Again, all units available needed with local assistance. Suspects are two males, both Caucasian. Extreme caution advised. .."

Rick twists the key in the police car and the engine roars to life and in a second the two police officers are out of sight, cruising down the road, away from the small town to the scene.

So, as Rick and Shane are now entering farmland, passing farmhouses, fields of corn and big red barns and grand houses, the lights on top of the police cruiser are blinking red and blue and Rick and Shane come to an immediate stop.

Rick pops the trunk while Shane hops out of the police cruiser, leaving the door wide open, and grabs the spiked tire strip out the back and unravels it across the black top. Shane jumps back into the police cruiser with Rick and as Rick puts the cruiser in reverse and backs up, another police cruiser shows up on scene. Rick and the other cruiser create a roadblock with their cars, and they all jump out of their cruisers, take position with their guns fully locked and loaded, and aim, while they all wait and listen.

**FADE OUT**

* * *

As the car I was currently in swiveled around the road, I, still in the trunk was bracing myself. The crazy ass lunatic who was driving this car was making all these sharp turns and drifts, and when we were going what seemed like straight, the car would jerk back and forth, left and right, like the driver was abruptly switching lanes. I had to put my feet up and arms out with what room in the trunk was given to me to make sure I didn't roll around and hit the corners and walls in this cramped trunk. All this swiveling around was starting to make me car sick. I felt like I was on some carnival ride that spun around and around and did a bunch of flips and stuff like that. My headache was now on full-blown mode and I felt nauseated and dizzy.

And damn myself if my ears were deceiving me, I think I just heard police sirens. Lots of police sirens at that.

'_Am I hearing things now_?' I thought to myself, confused. '_Wait…maybe I'll be rescued_ _from this cramped trunk and whoever kidnapped me will be thrown in jail. But how would the police know I'm back here…it's not like I talk to anybody all that much, it would surely take them a few days to even notice I was missing, wouldn't it?_'

All of a sudden, my footing slipped and I was roughly jerked and slammed over to the wall of the trunk where the back seats were at as the driver hit the brakes and as soon as the brakes were hit, the driver immediately slammed his foot on the accelerator. I rolled to the other wall of the trunk, slamming into that one.

"Dammit!" I screamed out loud in frustration.

Then, out of nowhere, I heard a loud popping noise. '_Shit, that doesn't good at all..._' I thought; panic filling my whole body as I was still being thrown around in the trunk. And, worse than before, the driver starts to swivel around on the road and, like a flipping roller coaster, I feel the car start roll over and the car just starts flipping, rolling, and smashing against the pavement.

In the trunk, I bang my head numerous times and I have my eyes squeezed shut while my muscles stay tense and I hold my breath. I want to cry out, but I can't conjure up a single sound I'm so scared. The sound of metal screeching across the pavement is ear-splitting, like chalk scraping on the chalk board, and I can hear glass shattering. I think I hear a man's voice scream in pain…two actually. But I wasn't so sure. I couldn't tell exactly.

Then, what seemed like five minutes, the car comes to a stop. On its wheels, since I'm on the fuzzy carpet part of the trunk, because I can feel like the scratchy carpet on my bare arms and legs. I'm in a black tank top and white shorts. And everything is so still, as if time has stopped. The only thing I can hear is my own ragged breath and lots of police sirens. There's no shouting. Nothing.

**So hopefully my first chapter wasn't too bad ;) But anyhow, I hope you guys all enjoyed it and will review and let me know what you think and make any suggestions of if I should change/add anything :) In the meantime, I'll be working on chapter 2!**


	2. Chapter 2: The Shootout

**I'm back :D Here's my second chapter and it's shorter than the last one, but I really wanted to post something so you guys didn't think I was ditching the story ;) Anyway, I forgot to mention, but my OC Scarlet Pierce is based off of Emily Browning from the movie, _The_ _Uninvited_- well her looks anyway where her hair is brown and long, because I think Browning has such a unique look to her :D My Avatar picture is what I'm portraying Scarlet's looks as :) Anyhow, read and enjoy and let me know what you guys think of the story? Review:)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead **

**Chapter 2: The Shootout  
**

* * *

The '69 dark green Dodge Charger has a crushed radiator and steam is hissing out from the hood. The police men from Linden County that were originally on pursuit of the Charger come to a screeching stop and the men jump out of their cruisers, guns poised and ready to release bullets if necessary.

Rick, the Sheriff of King County, takes a cautious step forward, leaving the safety spot from behind his cruiser, while the other police men cover him.

Rick speaks, loud and clear, "If any of you can hear me in the car, slowly come out with your hands above your head and do not resist, or we'll be forced to open fire. Medics are on their way at this moment!"

No sounds were made. All you could hear was the Charger's radiator hissing. But with not even a second to blink, two men jump out of the Charger and with their pistols and they open fire. All the police men scramble for cover while Rick ducks and takes off for cover in a nearby ditch that's full of a little bit of rain water, soggy leaves and plant decay. Crouching down in the soggy mess, Rick exchanges a few bullets with the suspects, trying to hold his own and hit one of the men. And in an instance out of nowhere, Rick is jerked backwards, a bullet hitting him in the chest. Luckily his tactical vest stopped the bullet from piercing Rick's skin and ripping through his flesh, muscle, and insides. But still, with the tactical vest on, the bullet felt like a sledge hammer ramming into Rick's chest. It sure hurt like hell.

'_Damn, that was a close one; I need to watch my ass better or I'll be laid out dead…and what would Carl do?_' Rick thought over, wiping the sweat forming on his forehead off with a now mucky and grimy hand, as he re-loaded the clip of his python and laid down some more cover fire. And this time, Rick watched out for any more bullets that could knock him off his feet again.

As Rick continued with the gun war, his heart was hammering in his strong chest and blood was running through his veins with pure adrenaline. This was the first time that Rick was ever in a gun fight, and to say the very least, he was pretty damn scared. That bullet knocked the air right out of him and scared him half to death. He was lucky the vest saved his life, or he would have ended up with a nasty gunshot wound that would put him in the hospital for a bit.

So all the while Rick was popping off rounds, Shane was behind the open passenger door of the police cruiser and like Rick, laying down cover fire, trying to get a shot at the suspects. Shane kept glancing at his partner and best friend, and when he saw Rick stagger back in his crouching position and get tagged by that bullet, Shane nearly had his heart jump right out of his chest. He couldn't lose his best friend and what would he tell Lori, man…what would he tell Carl?! Focusing, Shane took aim and took a shot, but missed by at least an inch, '_Shit, that was a close one, almost had that son of a bitch_.'

After a few more minutes of gunfire, the two suspects finally got taken down, bullets tearing their bodies apart with blood splattering and flesh flinging around and the whole mess was quite gory. Bullet holes littered the two suspect's bodies and it was pretty darn gruesome. As they were getting hit with bullets here and there, their bodies jerked back in forth like they were having a seizure and their faces were contorted into shock and then shortly, the light of life in their eyes disappeared completely.

Their green charger was full of bullet holes as well and had a few splatters of blood that were covering the bent up and dented ugly green frame and the windows were all shattered, with shards of glass covering every inch outside of the charger and some covering the tan leather seats in the inside. Slowly though, the blood splatter's droplets started to trickle down, leaving behind a blood trail of its own as well.

The only sound that could be heard in that moment when the suspects finally dropped limp to the ground with thud was the sound of gunshots echoing in each and everyone's ears. Eyes were bugging out, jaws were half dropped and slanted and others wore a more solemn look while some had a grin plastered on their face.

And after a few moments of silence, Shane begins to jog over to his partner, Rick who is making his way over to the beat up charger with cautious even steps, and with the slightest hint of rush in his tone, Shane speaks, "Rick?! Rick! Hey man you alright, stop for a sec. I saw you get tagged up there, you scared the livin' hell outta me?!"

Rick looks a bit shaken up, but overall is in good shape and with all seriousness he turns a bit to face Shane and replies, "Yeah, scared the shit outta me too, can't believe he shot at me. Hey, as an afterthought….you do NOT tell Lori! She'll never let it go if she finds out and I'll never hear the end of it. Understand?"

Shane looks a bit amused, but his eyes hold a more serious hardness and he hauls out a simple and gravelly, "Yeah, I won't say anything."

Rick slightly relaxes after hearing that and his shoulders drop a little, looking like he just found out good news and he roughly gives Shane a punch on the shoulder, smirking a bit, and turns away from the puke green charger that's only about 20 feet away from where he is standing for half a second before an unbelievably load gunshot echoes out and Sheriff Rick Grimes staggers for a second before he's thrown to the pavement.

As he was turned away from the charger, Rick's vest only covered a portion of his side, and underneath his armpit on his side there was a spot exposed. No one saw it coming. No one saw the third suspect emerge from the beat down puke green charger until it was too late and he pulled out his pistol and took his shot at Rick, hitting him where his vest didn't provide any protection.

In an instant, as Rick was thrown to the ground, wound erupting and gushing out dark red blood, Shane immediately laid the third, and last suspect, out with his shotgun, hitting the man right between the eyes. His entire skull explodes and shatters, while his brains and blood explode out like a volcano's eruption. The man's face is mutilated and with the force of the shotgun shell, his body is thrown backwards and his limp dead body hits the ground hard.

Rick, groaning and coughing on blood now is lying in a growing pool of his own blood around him; blood seeping into his uniform underneath his tactical vest and trickling down his side. To shocked and confused at what just happened, Rick has a difficult time trying to move and Shane drops down onto his knees beside his best friend and desperately tries to stop the bleeding, hands turning red as he applies pressure onto the wound.

**FADE OUT**

* * *

All of sudden I hear some shuffling around in the car and some hushed whispers and then two gunshots were fired. I was assuming that they came from my abductors, since the echo of the shots were close, so I judged they were outside of the shitty car now firing at the police. I instantly hoped no one got injured, or worse, murdered by these strange horrible men, and for some reason I couldn't help but put some sort of the blame on myself. If I wasn't walking all by myself down the road, then these creeps wouldn't have kidnapped me and then the police wouldn't be chasing these crooked guys and they wouldn't be putting their lives on the line to try and save me. It was kind of my fault; at least I reasoned that I was to blame for, well part of it. But who was to say that the police were even chasing these men because they kidnapped me? For all I knew they could have been caught up in some drug deal gone wrong. I for sure didn't know, and I was starting to get irritated and nervous in the back of this cramped trunk. It smelt like oil and some kind of grimy substance, now that I was starting to fully come to my senses again.

I was instantly pulled out of my thoughts when I felt something pierce through my thigh. Sucking in a shocked breath, I felt tears spring to my tear ducts. At first it felt like somebody just gave me a good whack with a baseball bat, but then _oh my god, _the pain started to set in. I reached for my thigh and I could start to feel blood oozing out of the gaping wound, for what I was assuming was a gunshot wound and I could feel the torn flesh. My stomach did flips and I wanted to puke. The searing pain was like nothing else I've ever felt before and I couldn't help but moan and ground out in frustration and pain. And as the pain set in it felt like someone had just plunged a burning hot knife into my thigh muscle. Tears were flowing freely down my round cheeks now and I was blubbering like baby, squeezing my thigh tightly with both hands attempting to put pressure on the wound and stop the bleeding. I wasn't so sure it was helping though, since I started to feel blood seep between the cracks between my fingers and start to trickle down my hands and my wrists. The blood felt warm, thick and sort of slippery. I could feel my heart start to hammer in my chest, and panic start to seep its way into my very mind and body.

In my shocking pain, I was surprisingly distracted by and more alert of the continuous shower of more bullets making "tink" sounds on the metal frame of the car and the alarming sirens and lots of shouting. It almost sounded like a hailstorm. '_If it were only that…_' I thought sarcastically. But the loudest sounds were the gunshots ripping through the air and the echo that followed those gunshots. Then again, another bullet shot through the trunk and I could feel the bullet pass right by face. I froze and my heart lurched up to my throat. Goosebumps rose all over my skin, and all I wanted to do right now was to be back on the road, walking down it, minding my own business without a care in the world. I wished this was all just a horrible nightmare and I was a little girl again and my parents were still together, happily married, and all before the shit hit the fan and every ounce of happiness went down the drain. '_If only, want in one hand and shit in the other and see_ _which one gets filled first…'_ I relayed in my mind, remembering my father telling me that all the time after he became a drunken deadbeat. I ground my teeth together in anger, and the thought only fueled my tears and pain more.

After about five minutes of continuous gunfire though, all shots seized and all I could hear in my trunk was silence. My thigh was still gushing out blood, not nearly as fast, but some of it was coagulating on my skin and drying up, becoming sort of sticky and I could feel the blood drying on my now red-stained hands. '_That's a good sign, means the wound is going to clot up and_ _hopefully I don't end of bleeding to death_.' I cheered in my mind.

Looking over and turning my head to the side, I saw the two spots where the two bullets filtered in and they left two holes, allowing tiny little rays of light sneak in. Schooching in my limited space, and careful not to cause any more disturbance on my thigh, I pressed my face up against the one of the holes that the bullets left and closed one eye to take a peak outside to see what all this ruckus was.

From what I could see, there were about 6 cop cars, all with their top lights a blinking away, looking like they set up a blockade and I could see two tall looking men in uniforms about 20 feet away. One was pretty bulky, with a head full of pitch black thick like hair, tan skin, with a worried look plastered on his face, and he was carrying a shotgun speaking to the other officer. The one the bulky one was speaking to was tall, lean, clean cut with dark little curls of hair covering his head, a handsome face that was neatly shaved, and he looked quite distracted. I didn't see any other personnel around, so I assumed that whoever abducted me was shot down, '_Thank goodness!_' I sung out in my head. And suddenly I had an idea! I could call out to the two police officers for help! They could get me out of this god forsaken trunk and I could get my wound patched up!

All smug, I was about holler out to the two police officers, but I was quickly filled with terror and horror as I heard someone roughly shove out of the backseat of the car and I saw a rough looking man raise his pistol and 'BAM!'

The gunshot echoed so loudly my ears started ringing and I watched in complete repulsion as the tall officer was thrown to the ground and the bulky one make a face of fury and he pulled the trigger of his shotgun and I watched again in shock the third abductor/suspect get his head blown off, blood and brains splattering everywhere. I quickly moved away from the tiny hold and I felt my stomach lurch, and I started to dry heave.

I was shaking like a leaf and my head was spinning circles I could barely think straight. '_Is this real_?' I really hoped not, but deep down I knew what I just saw was the realest thing I've ever seen and I couldn't get the image of that officer being shot down like a deer and that man's head exploding…blood and brains bits flying in each and every directing…the echo of the gunshot. It was all too surreal.

In the background, as my mind was spinning around and around in astonishment, I heard muffled shouts and screaming, all filled with panic and fear. I zoned in and overheard the conversation.

A deep gruff voice sounding worried spoke, "Rick! Rick! Oh god, he's hit!"

So the clean-cut, tall officer was the one that got shot. I felt bad. This was my fault. I started shaking again and tears were falling down my already tear-streaked cheeks. I was so angry!

Then the same voice spoke again, still filled with panic and concern, "We need an ambulance! Leon, go call an ambulance, officer down, officer down! What you all standing around for, make yourselves useful for once!"

And that was the last I heard before my hearing faded away and I was sent back in the darkness and depths of my mind, passing out from shock and blood loss.

**So, Chapter 2 is finished :D Let me know what you guys think, I'm not sure if the story is too boring or too slow, but I'm trying to be descriptive and hopefully whoever is reading my story is enjoying it :) I want to thank my 4 followers for adding my story on alert and my 3 favorites:D And I want to thank anybody else who has viewed my story as well and waited for Chapter 2 to be posted :) Let me know what you guys think of this story so far and if I should make any changes! I would be so super glad! In the meantime, Chapter 3 is being worked on :D  
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	3. Chapter 3: Escape

**I'm back :D Here's Chapter 3, it's pretty short but next Chapter I'll try to make longer :) Anyhow, I was stuck on what I wanted to do with Scarlet, I was contemplating on either having her wake up in the hospital after passing out in the trunk, but I decided against that idea. Instead, I chose something different and here you'll read it in Chapter 3 and Chapter 4 Scarlet meets someone! :D Yay! Anyhow, to get the time frame down right now, Rick got shot on May 1st and Scarlet has been in the trunk since May1st. It's May2nd when she wakes up now and near noon, and it's HOT outside :) And no-one is looking for her whatsoever and no-one even knows she is missing since she grew up not really being a "social butterfly" and she just likes keeping to herself. She's small, but physically really tough and has a lot of skill, knows how to work a gun and knows a FEW things about medical things. And sometimes she thinks she's mentally tougher than she really is, but in reality she has a lot of time to grow and become mentally tougher and not let people break her walls down. Throughout the story I'm hoping to develop her personality and help her cope through her issues and further on more of her past will come out of the bag :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead**

**Chapter 3: Escape**

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Waking up for the third time in the god-forsaken trunk, I was drenched in a sheen of sweat. My neck was sweat covered, slick, and my sterling silver necklace was sticking to my fair skin and my chest was covered with tiny beads of sweat. I could feel pit stains on my black tank top as well.

'_Gross_,' I thought sourly to myself.

I could also feel my damp and ratty hair sticking to the nape of my sweaty neck and I felt so gross the very thought of an ice cold shower almost made me pass out with want-or shall I say with nee-dance.

And on top of everything, my wound was aching in pain and the outside of the wound where the flesh was torn burned. I bit my bottom lip in an attempt to choke back a painful moan. I just needed to find a way out of this trunk and find a hospital or even a payphone. But the big question was _how _I was going to go about doing this. It wasn't like I could bust myself out of here and then be on my jolly way. If it was that easy, I would have been out of here from the beginning.

And if I couldn't find a way out of the trunk soon, I was more than likely going to die of dehydration or infection. My mouth felt like I had cotton balls stuffed in there and when I tried swallowing if felt like I was trying to swallow cinnamon. With the mere thought of water, my throat reminded me of how thirsty I really was and ached with thirst-aching for something cold and wet.

'_Oh how delightful that would be_,' I fantasized in my mind of chugging down a whole gallon of ice cold water. I could actually almost feel the cool sensation.

But I also had to remember my other necessity. My hunger was gnawing away at my stomach and I could feel my tummy growling. I couldn't think of the last time I even had food.

Grimacing, I wiped away whatever sweat that was forming on my slick forehead with the back of my hand and I tried to think of a way to get out of the trunk. There had to be a way out. Wasn't there? Trying to desperately think of a plan, I just couldn't. And there wasn't a single thing in the back of this hot, muggy, heavy-aired trunk that I could use to my advantage.

But there was one thing I could try. It may or may not be helpful, but I was willing to give it a shot. So scooting over a bit, I braced my elbow and with a lot of force, I quickly jabbed it backwards, coming in contact with the rear headlight. To my dismay, nothing changed. So I braced my elbow again and gave it another try, and I heard the sweet sound of the rear headlight popping out of its socket.

Smiling, I mentally praised myself for my own handy work. The red taillight was now popped out, dangling by its thin electrical wires. The hole was large enough for my lean, muscular arm to fit through and wave it back and forth, and maybe, just maybe I could reach far enough to see if there was a push button on the outside to unlock the trunk. But only if this shitty car had that button on the outside, or else I was out of luck and back to square one.

So, with no other choice, I mentally crossed my fingers and slid my toned arm out of the taillight hole and I could feel the temperature difference. It was at least 10-15 degrees hotter in this trunk than what it was outside! Guaranteed it was probably sweltering outside just as well, but in the confined space I was in, it was like I was in my own personal oven, cooking away in the blistering heat.

With the full length of my arm now out and dangling, shoulder shoved up to the opening, I felt around blindly desperately searching for a push button.

'_I had to at least have some shred of luck_…'I thought hopefully, while still stretching my arms and fingers to the max searching for that luck.

Just when I thought I wasn't going to find anything after a few minutes of arm shoving and stretching, my fingertips brushed past a raised button. I could barely touch it, so I pressed my shoulder further against the small opening until my arm pit and socket was aching from the rough metal edges pressing firmly against my bare skin and I finally was able to locate the tiny black push button and without a second thought I pushed the button down. The trunk made a "pop!" and I could hear the seal unlock.

Smiling smugly, I recoiled my arm and with both arms now, I placed my palms right above me and pushed upwards on the trunk's lid.

The trunk creaked open and a trickle of light seeped in along with fresh air, both filling my confined space and washing out the heavy-muggy air for a second and the darkness. The blinding ray of light reached my hazel eyes for a moment before I forced them shut for a second to avoid being temporarily blind. Opening them back up, I was able to see much more clearly.

But when I believed I was alright and all good, the trunk wouldn't lift any further as I pushed upwards more and more with more force each time. I had only managed to lift the trunk lid only about 3 feet, but that was good enough for me to squeeze my way out.

'_One way or another, I'm getting out of here_.'

And sticking to my thoughts, I scooted over to the 3 foot opening and started climbing and squeezing my way out, head first, then my slender body. I gave one lust push to shove out of the trunk and I popped out, falling to the sandy-like ground with a rude thud.

For a second, I had to close my eyes again to keep the sun out, since it was blindingly bright out now, but eventually I was able to open them and I saw that the sky was a beautiful bright blue with not a single cloud in sight and the sun was just a blazing down.

I couldn't believe it; I was officially out of that sizzling trunk. I was so happy I wanted to scream out in joy, but I was already out of breath with my heartbeat pounding away at my chest and I was all sweaty. And I had to stick to the plan and get somewhere to get this wound taken care of.

Rolling over, I got my knees, and shakily made it my feet. My legs were trembling and my body felt so weak and drained of every ounce of energy that I wasn't so sure I could make it anywhere. So as I took a wobbly step forward, a pain shot right through my thigh and I about crumpled back to the ground. Instead, I ground my teeth together, gained my balance back, and put more of my weight onto my left foot and hobbled a few more steps before I stepped in some dark red dirt.

It took me a second before I remembered everything and put two and two together, but as soon as it did, I felt sick to my stomach. The Officer named Rich? No …Rick, Officer Rick got shot by that low life piece of rubbish. And when I sneaked a glance to my right, I noticed a group of vultures pecking away at the ground at some chunks of meat, and two of the vultures were playing tug of war with a chunk of meat, or in other words, brain chunks.

Turning all the way around, I finally got to see the car, which was actually a piece of shit, with its bent up puke-green frame covered with dust, bullet holes, and blood splatters. The windows were busted out and all shattered, glass fragments circling its way around the whole car and looking like a bomb went off inside and the fragments were glistening in the bright sun. I felt like I was in some horror movie.

'_If only I was_,' I dryly thought.

The car doors were also all flung open, looking like somebody ransacked the whole dang thing and contemplated for a moment whether or not to ransack the beat down car myself. Maybe there was a cellphone in there…a bottle of water hopefully.

So I limped over the front door, and the first thing I spotted was blood splatters painting the tan leather seats and dashboard, along with the white deflated airbag and a lighter with pack of cigarettes in the center counsel.

'_Not much help a pack of cigarettes is going to do, the lighter may come in handy though_.'

Swiping the lighter, I crouched down and was presented with another pang of pain shooting through my thigh, but I ignored the pain for the time being, continuing on with my search. I opened the dashboard cubby and right in front of my eyes was a Browning 9X19 mm Hi-powered pistol, or in other words a GP 35 (Grande Puissance) handgun. I hesitated, but decided to swipe the handgun anyways.

'_Who knows, I might need it_,' I thought over inquiringly.

And after finding the lighter and pistol, I found a half empty water bottle on the floor of the car and I chugged the whole thing. It tasted stale and warm, but it was wet, so it could hopefully hold me off for now. _Hopefully._

I finished up my raiding business and slammed the front door shut and started limping my way to the road just up ahead, feeling an aching pain in my scorching thigh each step of the way. I waited for about five minutes and not even a single car came by.

'_Just my luck, ha_,' I thought sarcastically to myself as I took a left, and started shambling down the vacant road, with my newly found pistol in the back band of my dirt covered and blood covered white shorts; on my way to whatever civilization I could find.

**Thanks for waiting and reading Chapter 3!:) Review and let me know what you guys think! If you guys think I should change or alter something let me know and suggestions are welcome:D And thank you for everyone who has took the time to read, review, follow, and favorite my story-keep them coming:****D In the meantime, Chapter 4 is being worked on!  
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	4. Chapter 4: Somebody Else

**I'm back :) Finally! Been awhile since I last updated, but here's Chapter 4 and I hope you guys like it! It's not as long as I wanted it to be, but it's a chapter none less. Read, review, follow, favorite, PM me and give suggestions :D Thank you for everyone that has been waiting for this chapter and thanks for everyone that has followed my story :) Anyhow, enjoy!**

**Chapter 4: Somebody else**

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After stumbling along the side of the road and limping for at least an hour and a half, I was ready to call it quits for the day. I was drenched in a sheen of sweat, thirsty, and my poor legs were dead tired, especially my wounded leg-which ached with a throbbing pain.

Slowing down my already sluggish pace, I was about to plop down onto the chunky rough gravel on the side of the unoccupied highway road until I saw something of fin the distance, and it was coming closer by the second! It was a vehicle!

At first I thought I was hallucinating the vehicle, but it wasn't until the vehicle was coming to a groaning stop and a burly man was coming around in the front towards me, with cautious measured steps and a scruffy face plastered with concern and wonder that I finally snapped out of it and came back to reality

The burly man spoke to me, "Hey little miss, you alright? You're bleeding—let me help you. Get in the truck and I'll take you somewhere safe—get you medical help, how bout that?"

His voice was soothingly deep toned and as he was asking me to get in the vehicle he was starting to open the creaky passenger door and he motioned for me to hop in the truck.

I stared blankly at the seat, contemplating whether or not it was a good idea to hitch a ride with a complete stranger, even with my current predicament. The burly man, showing signs of being a tiny bit impatient I guessed, took a few quick steps toward me and I immediately snapped out of my current thoughts.

Leaping backwards, I accidentally tripped over my feet and fell to the rock solid ground—hard. The air whooshed out of my lungs and right out my mouth, leaving me completely breathless and trying to gasp for air.

The burly man looked startled and even a bit scared. He ogled at me with worry soaked in his eyes and in a rush; he strode over to my side, crouching down, "Hey little miss, I didn't mean any harm—it's just I got a job to do about 5 miles from here and you really look like you need some help, and maybe some water—you look dehydrated."

He went to lift me up, bridal style, but as soon as his rough calloused hands brushed against my bare skin, I immediately squirmed of his grasp and pushed him roughly away from me.

"Please don't touch me," I spoke softly, but with sincerity etched into my voice.

I got up to my feet and brushed the dirt and sand off of me and turned my head to the burly man, giving him a second look and coming to my final decision, "Is that ride still up for the offering?"

His disheveled face that looked a tad bit hurt from my rejection abruptly brightened up and he quickly jumped up to his feet and smiled ear to ear at me, "Yeah, no problem little miss! Hop right in; I'll take you to the nearest town, just where I was coming from."

I determined that the burly man didn't seem too harmful, just rough, and he _was _offering a ride to town and he did mention water, but what caught my attention was that he said he had a job about 5 miles from here, away from town, the opposite direction I was just heading towards and he was driving a large tow truck. The only possible reason somebody would be driving a large tow truck was to tow a vehicle back to the tow yard, or perhaps tow a certain car back to town and to the impound for further inspection.

'_That probably explains why I was still locked in the back of the trunk_,' I thought inquiringly to myself, half wondering what this poor man would have done if he would have found me banging on the trunk making a fuss, or waving my arm out of the taillight hole frantically.

'_What a scene that would be_,' I sarcastically thought, all the while also wondering what the man was currently thinking _now._

A young woman walking all by herself down an empty road, covered in blood, sweat and dirt, hair ratted up and tangled looking like hell with a coagulated bullet wound on her thigh.

'_Such a typical thing to see every day—ha_,' I half-heartedly joked.

And then a deep voice next to me pulled me out of my thoughts. The burly man spoke, "So—just curious but uhm, why are you carrying a handgun?"

"What?" I asked, wondering what the heck he was talking about.

"That pistol, in the back of your shorts, why do you have it?"

Staring at him for a moment like he was crazy man it finally dawned on me that _I _was the crazy one, not him.

"Oh—that? I found it." I replied while trying to distract myself with twirling a piece of my bronzy-brown colored hair and looking down at my bloody and grimy thighs.

"Where at?" He asked nonchalantly.

I shrugged my shoulders, trying to decide whether or not to spill and tell the truth. I decided to just ignore and avoid his question and I just idly stared out the window, watching the farmland blur by.

Silence lurked in the cab of the tow truck until I decided to break it, "What's your name?"

The burly man peered over at me then replied, "Mark. Mark Brax."

"Cool, you have family?" I peeked over at him from the corner of my eye and saw a smile form on his lips.

"Yeah, a beautiful wife that's 8 months pregnant and a gorgeous 16 year old daughter."

His eyes seemed to sparkle as his told me about his family members.

"What's her name?" I curiously inquired.

"Joyce. She's a wonderful and very talented girl. She plays violin and probably plans on having her career lean towards the music industry. You might know her—long brown hair—like her mother's—and crystal clear blue eyes that look like the ocean, attends King County High School, ring a bell?" he asked, fully watching at me now.

I furrowed my brows and confused, spoke, "No—I don't go to school?"

He openly eyed me now, thoroughly confused, "What? So what are you the, a runway kid? High school dropout?"

I turned to face him fully and cocking my head to one side I observed his facial expressions for a moment, thinking to myself, '_What—is this guy a nutcase or what_?' and then I spoke slowly, "No—I'm 22 years old, I don't attend High School and I don't live in King County."

The man looked embarrassed and a tiny bit shocked at my statement, "Damn! I'm sorry little miss, you could have fooled me! You look younger, you could pass for 16. So do you go to college then?"

I shook my head, "No."

"You own a house?"

"No."

"You have any family?"

"No—I don't know," I whispered that last part.

"Where do you live then, if you don't live in King County that is," He asked.

"Linden County—I rent an apartment," I replied earnestly.

"You have a boyfriend or anything? Does anyone know you're even gone—missing?" The man inquired.

"No and no," I replied with an exasperated sigh.

"Do you work?"

"Yeah."

"Where at?"

"Linden's Auto-Repair—a mechanic shop."

"Cool—you good at fixin things?"

"I would like to think so—they hired me didn't they?" I replied with a little bit more irritation than I wanted to show, tired of his endless twenty questions.

"Hmph, yeah I guess so—you good at shootin guns?" He asked, changing the subject.

Glancing at him, "Yeah, I'm good. I got a deadly aim," I proudly exclaimed, smirking a tiny bit, but not letting the man notice it.

"You'll have to show me sometime," The man announced, chuckling a bit to himself.

"Yeah—sure," I replied casually.

We sat in complete silence for a bit until Mark spoke out again, "What's your name?"

I hesitated, but decided to tell him the truth anyways, "Scarlet—Scarlet Pierce."

"Pretty name, are you originally from Georgia?" He probed.

"Yeah, been here all my life," I answered, staring out the window.

Mark nodded and swiveled his eyes back to the empty road in front of him, "Not much farther until we'll be entering King County."

"Okay."

After a few more moments of silence I abruptly broke the silence by asking Mark a question, "What's your daughter like?"

He was slightly caught off guard, but he answered my question anyways, "She's the sweetest daughter ever, wouldn't harm a fly. Like I said before, she plays the violin like a pro and she is probably going to go to college and join the academy for highly skilled musicians and she absolutely adores animals and likes making new friends and her favorite color is red—umm oh! Next month she has a contest to show off her violin skills and she's hoping she wins because if she wins the judges take her up on a deal and pay for her tuition for college—I know she really wants to win that."

I reached into my white pocket—that was slightly grimy—and fished around for something that I carry around every day. I plucked the luck charm—a finger tipped sized gold acorn.

"Here, give this to her," I insisted, dropping the small gold luck charm into Mark's large palm, "She sounds like a great girl."

Mark was gawking at me and then he spoke, "Uhhh—I don't know what to say, I mean—I can't take this. It's yours. You—"

I cut him off, "No, it is Joyce's. I'm giving it to you to give to her. Think of it as—a token of my thanks for helping me out today. And I can see how proud you are of your daughter so—give this to her and wish her luck for me and tell her to give it her all at her contest. I'm sure she will do wonderful and kick butt."

By this time we were driving into the outskirts of King County and I could see various people, families busying themselves around the tiny shopping stores, the food court, and some just leaning against the buildings observing the sky and weather.

As we were passing by a park I saw a bunch of school children running around like chickens with their heads cut off and laughing—totally oblivious to the world around them.

A few minutes later, we drove by a small business full of necessities and supplies and there was a small crowd of people, all with angry slash scared faces. Some were shouting—I couldn't hear what they were saying, but they were throwing out various items out onto the sidewalk and some were pushing shopping carts full of groceries and other supplies. It looked like they were ransacking the place, and I could see a few bystanders running away scared for their lives and some hiding and ducking into the next store over.

"Hey, Mark what's going on—look!" I announced, a little louder than necessary, but Mark looked over anyways.

"Oh that? Looks like some of the locals are raiding the place for supplies, haven't you heard on the news? Apparently there's this new kind of virus going around and it's making people crazy. There was this one report saying that some construction man got bit and started turning on all of his co-workers going crazy and attacking them trying to bite them too. It's probably just being exaggerated, but some people are gearing up with supplies and stuff just in case the 'world ends.' Crazy stuff, but the Government has it under control."

'_Well, this is certainly a lot to mull over—people biting each other? Sounds like something straight out of a movie_,' I thought wondrously to myself and then gave Mark a simple, "Oh."

I stared out the window again wondering what this new virus means—what will happen if the Government _doesn't_ get this thing under control? Do we all die and turn into crazy people or what? So many questions, so little answers.

"Hey, the hospital is right up here," Mark stated, breaking me out of my thoughts.

I looked forward and saw the EMERGENCY sign in red letters.

'_Well, at least I'll have this bullet removed_,' I cheered in my mind, happy that this aching pain would soon be taken care of. My thigh was starting to get on my nerves and I was getting a small headache. Some water would be real nice too.

"Hey—why'd you stop?" I asked Mark suddenly.

Mark gaped at me for a moment, probably wondering what a silly question that was, but answered me anyways, "I'm a father and I couldn't possibly think of my own daughter stuck on the side of the road—bloody, grimy and covered in sweat left for dead, hair tattered—it just isn't morally right, I had to help you."

My chest tightened up with an unknown feeling. I wasn't used to having people_ care_ about me. I was used to fending for myself. I swallowed the nervous lump in my throat. We were pulling into the Hospital driveway and Mark was moving the shifter into park. It was time to get out.

**Thank you for reading :) Please review and give suggestions, I'll take any suggestions into consideration and if anyone wants to see something, I'll try to incorporate into my story :) Anyhow, Chapter 5 is in the making :D And I'm currently working on a cover for my story :)  
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	5. Chapter 5: Hospital

**I'm back :) So here is Chapter 5 and it is considerably longer than the other chapters so yayy! And sorry about the slow start but I promise the zombies are coming soon! Maybe in Chapter 7 or 8 the story will be moved on to the post-apocalyptic word with Rick waking up in the hospital by himself so don't worry! Anyhow, I'm still working on my story cover and hopefully that will be up sometime next weekend, maybe sooner. But I hope you enjoy Chapter 5 and let me know what you think-review, follow, PM me, favorite, give me suggestions? :D Oh and I want to thank all me new followers for following this story and for everyone that has been so patient for updates :D Enjoy!  
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**Chapter 5: Hospital**

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After limping my way towards the building with Mark hovering over me like I was going to pass out any minute, we eventually made it through the double sliding doors and my thigh was on fire—like somebody was constantly shoving a knife in my wound and twisting it. I really needed to get my wound fixed up.

A couple of people littered the waiting room and a few eyes landed on me, eyes that quickly turned into ones of shock. I wondered if I really looked that disheveled.

A middle-aged woman was sitting behind the glass slider separating me from her—or her from me—either way and she had her dull brown hair pulled up into a sloppy bun. She had dark circles underneath her equally dull brown eyes and it looked like she hadn't had a good night's sleep in days.

She hadn't noticed me stumble up right away so I cleared my dry throat the best I could and gently tapped on the glass. Her eyes found my face and for a second she looked completely startled, but she regained her composure and spoke, "What's you emergency?"

I was about to reply but Mark spoke before I could and answered for me, "I found this young lady on the side of Highway-20 walking by herself, I picked her up—she's shot. We would be mighty glad if you could get a doctor right away and have her looked at."

The lady nodded, "I'll page a doctor right now, go have her sit down on that chair over there—she doesn't look so good."

And to be truthful, I certainly didn't feel too good either. I was a little nauseous and my still burned like hell, so I gladly took a seat in the chair the lady was pointing at. Mark plopped down in the chair next to mine and he let out a heavy sight. I peeked over at his face out of the corner of my eye and he looked real distressed, his forehead creased with worry.

I adverted my eyes and stared at my folded hands, speaking softly, "It's okay, you can leave now. You've done more than enough for me today—I can take it from here. You should probably get back to your job."

He sighed, "I'm not goin' anywhere."

"You sure?" I asked dubiously.

"100% sure. I'm goin' to make sure you get taken care of and back home safe and sound—and that's a promise."

I didn't say anything back so I just looked back down at my folded hands, and as I was about to get up and go to the bathroom a doctor came in from the back doors and his eyes landed on me and Mark. He strode over to us and spoke with a seemingly slow and boring voice, "Hello, what seem to be the problem today?"

I was going to be rude and tell him how obvious the problem was but I bit back my words and Mark, once again, answered for me, "I found this young lady on the side of the road and she has gotten shot. She wasn't bleeding when I found her so I'm assuming she got shot yesterday or something, but she has quite a bit of dried blood on her dirt, so I don't know if the wound is infected or what and I don't know when the last time she's eaten anything."

The doctor was nodding his head and taking notes on his notepad while listening to what Mark was relaying to him while I was looking around the waiting room. I noticed lots of curious eyes continuously peeking up at me but when I looked back at them they would avert their eyes like they weren't staring in the first place. I felt a little uncomfortable so I decided to keep my eyes cast downwards until Mark was done speaking with the doctor.

"Alrighty then—Scarlet, will you come with me? Mark can come too."

I looked back up to the doctor and his eyes met mine. He looked a little of middle-aged and he had the dullest eyes ever—they were grayish with no life in them. Did all the people who worked here seem lifeless? Maybe it's because die here sometimes…something, but other than that his appearance seemed rather friendly.

Standing up without a word I went to take step forward to follow the doctor but my mind and vision suddenly became cloudy and I got a bit dizzy. I ended up staggering forward a bit and Mark quickly grabbed me by the shoulders to try and steady me but I instinctively jumped and pushed him rudely away.

I immediately mentally scolded myself for being so stupid. It was just Mark, the tow truck driver.

"Sorry!" I blurted up meagerly, my cheeks already turning into a deep shade of red.

'_I am such an idiot! Why can't I just for once be normal_?!'

"S'kay," Mark replied glumly, obviously feeling rejected by my rudeness, "Let's just get your wound looked at."

I nodded, embarrassed and irritated at myself and proceeded to trail behind the doctor, limping while Mark trailed behind me—hands shoved in his pockets looking sort of angry at _himself_. I could just slap myself right now.

The doctor led us to the back behind the double doors where most of the doctors and nurses are and we were soon walking down a bland hallway and coming upon an elevator. The doctor halted and pressed a button and soon enough the doors to the death machine—elevator—opened. I was really not a fan of elevators and I really did not want to step into that confined space.

The doctor stepped into the elevator and spoke, "You coming?"

I had to make my decision—now or never—so I shakily stepped into the box like space and leaned against one of the metal bars, gripping it for dear life and closing my hazel eyes. Mark was the last one to step in. He leaned on the bar next to me and crossed his arms over his chest and the elevator doors slid shut. The doctor pressed the button that would lead us to level 4.

My stomach felt funny as the death machine started moving and it only made me more nauseous, but soon enough I heard a dinging sound and the doors to the elevator slid open. I didn't move a muscle.

"Hey, you alright?" Mark asked concerned.

The doctor was already standing outside of the elevator waiting for me and Mark.

I nodded, "Yeah I'm good—just don't like elevators much."

I opened my eyes and saw Mark quietly snickering and I followed behind him as he stepped out of the elevator. I noticed that even the doctor had a smirk on his face. I shook my head in mortification, my cheeks bright red.

We were walking down another white plain hallway that was similar to the other one—except that the smell of antiseptic was strong and it was cold up here—the draft giving me goose bumps and the smell giving me a headache.

'_Definitely not a smell I could ever get used to_,' I thought meekly to myself.

"We're almost to the room—you hanging in there Scarlet?" The doctor called out to me.

"Yeah," I croaked back.

As were making our way down the long hallway there were a bunch of patient rooms, but their doors were all shut except for a few that were open with just a crack. But one room caught my attention. The door was wide open and I could faintly hear a machine beeping, a heart monitor. I slowed down my already slow pace and focused in on the faint voices speaking and peered in the room. There were two men that looked somewhat familiar.

**Fade Out**

* * *

Rick is in the hospital bed with a hospital gown on, blankets half covering his stiff body and he is hooked up to a heart monitoring machine, ventilator and IVs. Slowly, Rick is coming to and he can see his partner—Shane—hovering over him in his off duty clothes.

"Hey buddy, "Shane speaks, sounding strange and distant.

Rick doesn't reply; he's still groggy with a clouded mind.

"We're still here, just hanging in. I know I say it every time I come in, but…" Shane continues, but pauses and rubs his eyes with the back of his large hand, leaning away from Rick and turns around to grab a baby blue vase with an intricate design on it full of an arrangement of mixed flowers.

"We all pitched in and everyone wanted me to bring this down from the station. They hope you get well soon…we can't wait to have you back. I'll leave it here on the side table."

Rick is still groggy and goes back to the darkness for what he thinks is only a minute or so and Shane's voice fades out. Shane shoves his hands back into his pockets and murmurs, "If only you could hear me right now, I'd like to think you can but sometimes I just don't know." And Shane turns to leave the room, leaving his friends to rest in peace.

**Fade Out**

* * *

As soon the man speaking set the arrangement of flowers on the side table and murmured something I noticed Mark and the doctor were still walking down the hallway and I quickly scampered off, limping to catch up with the two men in front of me a ways—and just in time too because the man that was speaking in the room was quietly walking out of the room I was just eavesdropping on and was shutting the door softly, as to not cause any disturbance.

I was able to recognize the man's voice, but I didn't know his name. I remembered him blasting that guy's head right off. I pushed the memory aside. I didn't really want to remember what everything looked like. I was also able to recognize the man in the hospital bed. He was the police officer that got shot. A twinge of guilt and remorse hit me. I felt like it was still my fault in some way or another.

I finally caught up to Mark and the doctor and we were entering a patient room now. The doctor held the door open for Mark and I and he shut it gently, the lock clicking into place.

"Take a seat Scarlet, I just need to ask you a few questions first and examine your wound. Then, if it's all clear, I can go get the x-ray technician for x-rays and we can go from there."

"Okay," I replied, taking a seat on the small bed.

The doctor sat down on the chair that had wheels and Mark leaned against the white wall.

"Okay, first off—what's your last name?"

"Pierce."

"Where do you live?"

"Linden County."

"How old are you?"

"22 years old."

"Do you live by yourself or with somebody?"

"By myself."

"Where were you when you got shot?"

I hesitated. I didn't know if I should tell him or not. Both the doctor and Mark were looking at me expectantly.

"Uhm…"

The doctor had his pencil—ready to write on his notepad.

"A trunk."

The doctor looked confused, "You were in a trunk? May I ask you why?"

I could feel my face burning up. "I…I don't want to talk about it. Please?"

Mark had a dark look in his eyes. I knew_ he_ knew what probably happened and why I was in the back of a trunk. He_ was _on his way to pick up the crashed car I came from, so it seemed apparent he knew what happened.

"That's fine, I'll examine your leg now…and your face." The doctor added, accepting the fact that I wasn't going to spill.

I had completely forgotten that I had gotten smacked in the face with something metal and hard—probably a shovel, and that's probably why the lady at the front desk looked startled when she saw me.

'_No wonder everyone was looking at me…_'

The doctor rolled his chair over to me after setting his clipboard and notepad down and he slipped on a pair of plastic gloves. He started prodding my face gently and he focused around the bridge of my nose. He pressed a little too hard and I winced, "Ow."

"Sorry about that, but good news—your nose isn't broken or anything but you'll just have two nice shiners for a while; just a lot of bruising but let's take a look at that leg of yours now."

"Kay," I replied, rubbing my watery eyes.

The doctor grabbed some kind of flash light device and started examining my thigh. I watched his face, which seemed pretty stern. I wondered if I had an infection, I hoped not. He shined the light on my wound and squeezed my thigh, which made me grind my teeth together and about kick him off of his rolling chair.

"Well…there's no exit wound and your leg doesn't look infected and the bullet didn't seem to hit your femoral artery so we can remove the bullet but first I have to get a few x-rays of your leg so I'll be right back with the x-ray technician and while I'm gone, in the bathroom is a hospital gown, I'll need you to put that on—and maybe wash up a bit."

My cheeks flared red, "Okay."

Without another word the doctor left, shutting the big metal door behind him. I was expecting Mark to say something, anything, but he kept to himself. I wondered if he just didn't want to know the details of what happened. He looked angry and I couldn't figure out what was wrong with him.

"Mark?"

He looked up at me and his eyes softened, "I figured you were connected to that car I was supposed to pick up and tow back, I just didn't want to know forreal, you know? I didn't want my own thoughts confirmed I guess. The men…they're dead. Some big shootout happened…you probably know since you're shot. An officer got shot down, you see it happen? I saw you stop in the hallway and look into the room…he's the Sheriff—the one that got shot and his partner is the Deputy—the one that was talking in the room. They're close friends."

I babbled softly, "Yeah…I saw that police man get shot…and his partner blow the other man's head off with his shotgun. I passed out after that and woke up in the morning…covered in sweat."

"How'd you get out of the trunk?" Mark questioned abruptly, clearly intrigued.

"I broke the taillight out and found the push button on the outside and the trunk popped open—thankfully, and I was able to open the trunk about halfway, enough to squeeze out of the trunk. I searched the car and found a smidge of warm water and the pistol—Oh shit! I forgot I still had that in the back of my shorts!" I frantically announced.

"Here, I'll hold on to it—you should probably go get washed up and get your gown on." Mark offered, holding his hand out.

I pulled the gun out of the back of my shorts and passed it to Mark, who shoved it in the back of his pants.

"Thanks," I told him sincerely.

"No problem," Mark replied, smirking a bit.

I shook my head and toddled over to the bathroom. Shutting the bathroom door quietly I flipped the light switch on and went over to the sink to look in the mirror, taking in my appearance. My face was grimy and there was some dried blood beneath my nose and on my full lips and my eyes were swollen and black and blue, sort of purplish. I looked like complete crap.

I turned away from the mirror and started to strip down until I was bare naked. My bra had a metal wiring through it so I couldn't wear it with all the metal-sensitive x-ray machinery around. I observed my wound closely for the first time and saw a bunch of dirt surrounding the bullet wound. I needed to wash off this grime.

Walking over to the small shower, I turned the HOT nozzle and warm water started cascading down from the shower head. I stepped in and the water was scalding hot so I turned the COLD nozzle just a little bit and the water was absolutely bliss. My muscles started relaxing and I watched as the dirt and blood started washing off my body and down into the drain. The water was a mucky reddish-brown for a minute and then the water started running clear. I saw a bottle of generic brand shampoo on the ledge so I grabbed it and squeezed a bunch into the palm of my hand and scrubbed the shampoo all over my hair and used the suds coming off to wash my face and body, especially my thigh.

After about five minutes I was finished with my shower and I shut the water off and I heard a knock on the door.

"We're ready when you're ready."

I recognized the voice as the doctors.

"Okay!" I called back, feeling refreshed and rejuvenated. That had to have been the best shower in my life.

Grabbing a towel I quickly dried myself off and found the hospital gown hanging from the wall and put that on and then I swiped my underwear off from the ground and slipped them on so I didn't feel completely naked.

I stepped out of the bathroom and the hot steamy air rolled out into the main patient room and the doctor smiled when he saw me, "Ready?"

"Yeaup," I replied, noticing the x-ray technician standing next to the doctor wearing what seemed to be a lab coat.

"Okay—this here is George, he's our main x-ray technician. We're just going to go right across from the room and into the x-ray room; you don't have anything metal on you do you?"

I was about to say no but then I remembered my necklace. It was my first and only necklace that my mother and father bought for me when I was younger for my birthday before everything fell into a disaster and affair this and divorce that and daddy became a drunken slob and blah blah blah…and mom left, leaving me with the slob to fend for myself. I don't know why I wore it at all anymore; it wasn't like my parents even _loved _me or cared for me. So why do I still wear it? I don't know. Maybe because it reminded me of the past times when things were good…that's probably why; something to hang on to I reasoned with myself. It was sterling silver necklace with two heart shapes filled with diamonds. I remembered when I first put it on…but now I was taking it off for the first time ever.

Reaching back, I unclasped the hook and let it crumple the palm of my hand. I handed it over to Mark, "Can you hang on to this for me?"

"Sure thing hun."

I gave him a small smile and the doctor and technician lead me out of the room and across the hall to the x-ray room. All the room contained was a table and a large x-ray machine hanging from the ceiling.

George—the technician—spoke, "This isn't going to take too long—about 15 minutes so we'll have your results soon enough."

I nodded my head.

"You'll have to sit down on the seat though since the bullet is in your leg, which will make the x-ray easier to get."

"Okay."

"The doctor will show you where to sit and I'll just behind this wall operating the machinery," George added, walking behind a wall out of my sight.

The doctor lead me to the seat and I sat down and he gave me some kind of heavy apron, he said it was a lead apron for my body so my major organs didn't obtain radiation or something, whatever it was I had to put the lead apron over my upper half of my body. Then the doctor informed me I would have to sit really still for about a minute and the doctor went back behind the wall with the technician.

I did as he said and let them do the work. After the minute was up, the doctor came back out and had me sit in a different position and we did the process again and both the doctor and technician came out and the doctor took me back to the patient room, saying he was going with the technician to the radiologist (another doctor) to look at my two x-ray images and determine whether or not they could operate and remove the bullet without damaging my femoral artery.

I nodded my head and the doctor left, leaving me alone with Mark again. I ditched him and scampered off to the bathroom to go and get changed back into my normal clothes—which were grimy, bloody, and smelly—like B.O. I grimaced while slipping my clothes back on.

'_So gross._'

I finished my business and left the bathroom and plopped down on the small uncomfortable bed while Mark was sitting in the extra chair next to the bed watching me.

"How'd it go?" Mark asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Good…just a lot of weird machinery," I replied honestly.

"Hmmph…you know when they'll be back with the results?"

"Nope," I answered, laying down and closing eyes.

Before I knew it I must have fallen asleep because Mark was calling my name and I was gradually coming out of unconsciousness. The doctor was entering and he smiled at me genuinely, "Got your image results, lucky for you I can remove the bullet…so let's get started shall we?"

"Wait, you're going to remove the bullet _right now_?" I asked frantically.

"Yes, we wouldn't want your wound getting infected now would we?"

I grimaced, "No."

"Okay then, come with me we are going to the surgery room. Your friend can come with if he wants," The doctor stated.

Mark and I followed the doctor down the hallway again until we came to a room full of surgical tools, gauze and bandages and all sorts of disinfectant and large metal sinks and a surgery table.

"So am I going to be awake for this or what?" I asked enquiringly.

"No. I'm going to hook you up with some anesthesia so you won't feel the pain and you won't go into shock. 90% of people who actually get shot die from the shock rather than the bullet itself. So you won't be aware for the whole procedure. It won't take me long. I just need to remove the bullet, disinfect your wound, stitch it up and wrap it up with some gauze and bandages. Real easy process, so you won't be out long. You'll feel confused when you wake up and a bit groggy, but when the anesthesia wears off you'll be fine. You'll probably be out all night but when you wake up you are free to leave."

I blinked. "Sounds good to me I guess."

I really did not want to go back into unconsciousness and wake up confused like before, but I understood that it was what was needed to be done. The doctor led me to the surgical table and had me lay down and he got an IV out and flicked it a few times before moving towards my arm. I cringed—I hated needles—so I closed my eyes and waited for the poking sensation.

I felt the needle go in and in about a minute or two I started feeling faint—sick like and I fell into the depth of darkness.

**The Next Day**

* * *

I awoke and it was disturbingly bright in the room and my back and neck was stiff. The bed I was laying on was lumpy and uncomfortable.

'_Where the hell am I_?' I thought wondrously to myself.

I lifted my heavy head and looked around. Mark was sitting in a chair next to my bed. Then it all came back to me. My leg sort of stung, but not like before. My arm had an IV drip in and I could hear a beeping noise from the machine next to me. I could hear my heart—beep…beep…beep. I ripped the IV drip out of my arm and undid the heart monitoring machine off form and instead of the beep, beep, beep sound the machine went beeeeeeeeep. Mark stirred and awoke immediately looking as confused as I felt just a moment ago and his eyes raked my awake form, instantly relieved that I was alive and well. The doctor came rushing in and was alarmed at for a moment before he realized I was okay.

"You gave me a scare there young lady," The doctor announced, holding a hand to his chest where his heart was.

"Yeah, you could say that again," Mark huffed and crossed his burly arms.

My face turned red with embarrassment and I mumbled out, "Sorry."

I threw the heavy sterile smelling blankets off of me and swung my legs over the bed and looked promptly up at the doctor, "Can I get up?"

"Sure, but take it easy," The doctor replied with sternness.

I smiled, "Sweet."

Slipping off the non-cozy bed, my feet hit the cold drafty tiled floor and I wobbled for a moment before regaining my balance.

"I'll give you two some privacy, but on the next level down there's cafeteria where you two can get something to eat, other than that you're free to checkout and leave."

I gawked at the thought of riding on the elevator again and Mark looked enthused.

I glared at him but he kept smiling like an idiot. Once I heard the clicking sound of the heavy metal door I went to say something to Mark, but he put his hand up and chuckled, "We can take the stairs, no biggy."

"Thank you," I replied starkly.

"Not a problem sleeping beauty…how about a good morning? Hmmm?"

I rolled my eyes. I was starting to become fond of Mark. He seemed like a good friend; after all he did take me to the hospital even when he was supposed to be doing his job. I wondered if he would get fired. That very thought made my stomach knot up and the small smile on my face was wiped off, "Aren't you supposed to be working today?"

Mark pretended to be in deep thought for a moment, but then replied, "Nah, it's fine."

But I could see in his eyes that it probably wasn't doing him good babysittin' me, "Are you sure? I'm all patched up now—if you need to go you can—nothings holding you back."

"You're probably right…but who's going to give you a ride home? And what are you going to do about the hospital bill? You got medical insurance?"

I sheepishly averted my eyes and looked down. '_Well damn, I forgot about that_.'

"Don't worry about it, I took care of it already," Mark proclaimed.

My eyes went wide, "You what! Mark you can't do that? What about your pregnant wife and daughter? I can't burden you like that?! I'll pay you back as soon as I…"

Mark cut me off, "No. It's fine. You're not going to pay me back because I'm not going to accept it. Keep your money. It's good…let's just go and get something to eat."

I frowned at him, "Fine. I'm paying for breakfast though."

Mark snickered, "Whatever…lunch you mean?"

"Whatever," I bit back.

We made it down to the cafeteria, after taking the stairs this time, and we were currently eating some gooey macaroni. For hospital food it was actually pretty delicious, or maybe it was because I was so hungry, whatever the reason it was delicious. I couldn't tell if Mark was enjoying it, but if he wasn't, he certainly wasn't giving any signs to it. I also got my way and paid for lunch. Mark just rolled his eyes at me and laughed at me.

As I was shoveling the macaroni in my mouth Mark suddenly spoke up, "Here, I forgot I was holding onto it."

I looked up and swallowed my mouthful of warm gooey and cheesy macaroni and saw he was holding out my necklace. I took it from him and slipped it on my neck, hooking the clasp. The pendant settled just at the base of my neck.

"Pretty necklace, may I ask where you got it from?" Mark asked interestedly.

I eyed him, but decided to spill, "My parents. For my 8th birthday."

"Real diamonds?" He asked.

"Yes."

"Are your parents still alive?"

I shrugged my shoulders, "I don't know. I never talk to them."

"Why's that?" He asked completely interested.

I heaved a sigh and set my half eaten plate aside, "Because of things. My family is sort of…dysfunctional. Shit hit the fan and everybody just kind of went their own separate ways and I was the 'burden' the 'extra weight.' My mom left my father and I stayed with my dad and he was just never the same after that. I left as soon as I could and I haven't heard from any of them since."

Mark's eyes looked sad and I shifted uncomfortably under his piercing gaze.

"Sorry—about your family." Mark replied somberly.

"S'kay. You done? I kind of lost my appetite," I asked, a little annoyed.

"Yeah, I'm full. You wanna grab your things while I check you out?"

"Sure."

With that Mark and I split ways and I headed for the stairs, going back up to level 4. As I was walking down the empty hallway though I noticed a certain door was wide open—again, but no one was in the room except for him. I looked around and saw no one in sight so I hastily hurried into the room and shut the door behind me.

I don't know why but my heart was beating a mile a minute and I was in a nervous sweat already; probably because I wasn't supposed to be in here, but I had to do this one thing.

I quietly tip-toed over to the bed and noticed the vase was still in the same spot, the flowers vivid with all sorts of different colors and the vase was beautiful. I looked at the man in the bed—Rick. I at least remembered his name. I wondered what was wrong with him.

'_What if he wakes up_?' My mind warned me.

I debated that possibility for a moment but decided to take the risk anyways. I could probably tell him I was a nurse or something.

So proceeding, I shuffled around the desk but didn't find what I was looking for so I moved on to the doctor's desk and scrambled through the drawers and found a pencil and a pad of paper. I ripped a sheet off and scribbled a little note.

Dear Officer Rick,

You don't know me but you and your other policemen saved my life a few days ago and I am so grateful of that. I really hope you get well soon and are back on your feet in no time.

Sincerely,

The girl down the hall

I finished my note and went back over to the side table with the baby blue vase and set the note underneath the vase and the pencil next to the vase. I took one last glance at the still Officer and decided to leave. I didn't want to stay in the room any longer.

Quietly, I shut the giant door and rushed back down the hall to my room and grabbed my belongings, which were just a lighter and my ID. I spent all my money on lunch. I shoved the stuff back in my grimy back pocket and fled the room, taking the stairs all the way back down to level 1. By the time I got all the way down my leg was pretty sore, but not burning or stinging. Mark was waiting by double doors waiting for me to arrive so we could leave. I strode over to him and gave him a small friendly smile.

"You ready?" Mark asked chirpily.

I nodded my head. Time to get out of here and back home.

**Thank you for reading :D Please review and let me know what you think! If you think I should change anything in my story just PM me and give me suggestions :) Anyhow, Chapter 6 is in the making :D **


	6. Chapter 6: Home

**Another chapter :D This chapter is sort of a filler chapter I suppose, but I needed to establish Scarlet's home and the mood of Mark and Scarlet's friendship now before the apocalypse hits next chapter :) I can't wait for the zombies ;) Anyway this chapter is pretty short but it's a chapter so enjoy and review...let me know what you guys think?! :D **

**Chapter 6: Home**

* * *

I kept telling Mark he didn't have to take me home but he kept insisting so I decided to let him have his way. There was no way I could change his mind. He was so stubborn…but I guess I could say the same about myself. I could be stubborn when I wanted to…just depended on the situation.

We were already on the road again traveling down Highway-20 back to Linden County in no time. It wouldn't be about another half hour—40 minutes until we made it to my house so I settled into the large cab seat and stared outside mindlessly, watching the scenery blur by. Before I knew it we were driving into the outskirts of Linden County.

"What's your address?" Mark asked, peering over at me.

I continued staring out the window, "6410 Countryside Drive."

Mark nodded his head and went back to focus on his driving. I just wanted to get back home; to have these past few days out of the way and forgotten and to get back to work. We were soon pulling down my street and into my empty driveway.

"You don't have a car?" Mark asked, while his eyebrows rose in disbelief.

"No—don't have the money to buy one yet. I get around on that red bike over there," I responded, pointing at the old red bike leaning on the side of the house.

"Don't you have any roommates? Anybody to help out?"

I stopped myself from laughing out loud but answered seriously, "No. Like I told you before, I live on my own. There's a bunch of young teenagers that live up above though. They're parents pay their rent for them and help them out and such. They're really loud on the weekends, always throwing parties, drinking, and bringing home girls and stuff—you know what teens do these days. I learn to live with it."

Mark just shook his head in what looked to me as disbelief and spoke, "Scarlet—I can help you out, maybe find a way to get you a ride to work, I can make a few calls and—"

I cut him off, "I'm fine Mark. I really am. I've been on my own for a while now and I'm not a little girl, I'm 22 years old and I'm not going to be anybody's burden—not again. I can do things on my own. I'm thankful for your help today and everything—I really am, thanks, now goodbye. Don't forget to give that charm to your daughter." I spoke, adding the last part while hopping out of the tow truck and shutting the door behind me, a little too loud.

I don't know why I felt this way, maybe it was because I didn't want somebody else caring for me and trying to help me out, but I felt so irritated. I knew Mark was just only trying to help and such but I felt as if I was a problem…and I didn't want to be a problem—the problem. So I guess it was just instinct of shutting people out…shutting Mark out.

I heard Mark rev the engine and start to pull out of the driveway but then the squeaking of his brakes could be heard and he was pulling back up into my driveway.

"Here, this isn't mine. Take it back." Mark announced sourly and tossed the gun I found at me. I scrambled to catch it and soon enough he was backing out my driveway again in a rush and yelling out at me for one last thought, "Heaven forbid you accept help from others—see you around—or not."

I watched in silence as Mark quickly became a small little speck on the road, driving away, back home to his daughter and pregnant wife.

'_Why do I always make a mess of things?_' I thought solemnly to myself, dropping my head and shoving the gun back into the back band of my dirty white shorts. I just shook my head.

I walked up the cement steps to my door and I was about to lean over and flip the WELCOME mat over to grab my key until I noticed something was off. I furrowed my brows…the door was slightly cracked open. I knew I locked it before I went for that walk. Somebody must have come in or something.

Nudging the door forward, it slowly creaked open and I was greeted with a trashed house. The window facing the backyard was broke open and glass littered the hardwood floor. My TV was lying face down on the floor and my couch was flipped over while my kitchen cupboards were flung open—looking like somebody ransacked them and a few broken dishes were on the kitchen floor. I shut the door behind me cautiously and pulled my gun out, checking to make sure the safety was off and it was locked and loaded. Raising my arms, I tightened my grasp on the handle and pointed it forward and I crouched down, slowly searching around. If my dad did anything right—it was making sure I knew how to use a gun.

When I slowly came to my living room, I had my back pressed up against the wall firmly and I peeked around the corner into my bedroom. The covers were sprawled everywhere and my dresser drawers were pulled out and ransacked and my belongings covered the floor. At least my TV in here was untouched. I slowly crept in, on high alert.

My bathroom door was shut, so I slowly shuffled across the room silently, gun poised and I pressed up against the wall and I reached for the door handle and twisted it, opening the door.

I waited but I didn't hear anything so I peered into the bathroom and I noticed the mirror was shattered and that was all. There was a bloody white towel in the sink and some blood splatters on the floor.

I let out a heavy sigh of relief and put the gun back. I don't know who trashed my house but I had two theories. The men that abducted me did this—which was a very likely possibility or people ransacked my house for supplies or something. I remembered Mark telling me about some crazy stuff happening—some kind of new virus and some locals raiding that local store for supplies and stuff so maybe some people raided my house.

I left my room and headed back to the kitchen to check the cupboards. All my food was still there so it was most likely the men that abducted me that came in here and trashed the place; figures.

I was going to pick up the place but I decided I'd rather rest first. Too much had happened in the last few days and all I wanted to do was sit back and relax. So I went back to my room, shut the door and flopped onto my messy bed and I rummaged around the sheets for the remote. I found it and pressed the ON button for the small TV and I switched it to the news channel—TV 5. I was still curious about this new virus thing going around. I wanted to know more about it.

The blonde newscaster was speaking so I listened in on what she was saying and turned the volume up on the remote, "Just today there was an incident where a business man that worked at Dow Chemical in Midland Michigan bit his co-worker. The local police men in Midland were advised to proceed with caution onto the site and Officer Holsinger was forced to shoot down the suspect. The suspect—according to police—ran at Officer Holsinger and tried to bite him. The suspect was shot in the head. The co-worker that was bitten was taken to the local hospital where his wound will be checked out. This is the 16th incident in the U.S. where a person has been attacked by another person—and the new virus is linked to the attacks. The CDC is currently working on a cure for this new strange virus."

After the blonde finished reporting a video clip came up on the news screen and I watched intensely. It showed the incident at Dow Chemical and the suspect didn't even look alive, there was just something off about his appearance. The video quality wasn't all that great though since the footage was coming from a security camera but still…I could see that whatever this virus was doing was making people _really_ sick. It almost looked like the deranged man was dead like—like a corpse. He was running in a weird stiff way towards the Officer and snarling and was reaching out towards the Officer. The video clip cut off just before the Officer shot the suspect in the head with his pistol. I grimaced. I wondered if this virus was going to be as bad as the swine flu. I remembered when swine flu hit and thousands...maybe millions died and once they came out with the H1N1 vaccine everyone fled to their local hospital to get the shot. Hopefully the CDC can figure this virus out and get a vaccine out soon.

I shut the TV off and rubbed my eyes with my hand, feeling a tad bit tired. I don't know how I could be since I slept that whole time after surgery but I was feeling pretty emotionally drained. I rolled over onto my tummy and shut my hazel eyes and before I knew it was asleep in no time, still wearing my grimy and smelly clothes from a few days ago.

I awoke the next day feeling well rested and a lot better than I had in a few days. Jumping out of bed I set my gun on the dresser and headed for the shower—ready to take a long hot well needed shower at home. Before I jumped in I picked up the shattered glass on the tiled floor and threw the shards in the sink with the bloody white towel and I peeled the bandaging and gauze off my thigh and inspected my wound. It was still pretty gnarly but at least I wasn't bleeding out or at high risk for infection. It was all stitched up and it wasn't burning or stinging anymore at least.

When I finished up my shower my hands were pruned and the whole bathroom was fogged up and steamy. I stepped out and dried off; wrapping the towel up on my head so my hair would dry and I stepped out of the hot muggy bathroom into my bedroom. The steam rolled out into the cooler air.

I went over to my closet and found that some things were moved around, but nothing that really concerned me a whole lot, so I found a button up white blouse and I put that on after putting on my white bra and I found a pair of dark wash shorts. After putting that on I checked my appearance in the long mirror on my bedroom wall and I was pretty satisfied and I took the towel off my head. My hair wasn't dripping wet anymore, but just a little damp. I still had two black eyes though—but that didn't really concern me much. When I lived with my dad I _always _got a few black eyes here and there. Going back to the bathroom I kneeled down to the cupboards and found what I was looking for—more bandages and gauze. I fixed my wound up after slathering on some antibiotic cream and went to leave my bedroom.

Stepping out though I almost wanted to just turn around and go back to bed but I couldn't. The house needed to be cleaned up some time or another. So after getting the TV set in place on the stand and the couch upright again and the kitchen mess cleaned up I was ready to be finished. I was never one of those girls who didn't mind to do housework. Years of cleaning up after my father pretty much burned that away. I hated dishes and laundry and all that stuff. But I still did it. It wasn't like I was a slob; I just didn't like to clean up after _other people._

And just as I was finishing up the kitchen there was a knock on the door. I nearly jumped out of my own skin; I had to remind myself it was probably one of the guys from upstairs asking to bum five bucks again. I went over to the door and twisted the handle, pulling the door open. And before me was like I predicted, one of the guys from upstairs. I was pretty sure his name was Adam. He looked a little taken aback when I answered but he spoke anyhow, "Hey sorry to bother you—"

"But you will anyways. Here," I cut him off and turned around to grab my wallet off the kitchen counter and I grabbed a five dollar bill from it and I shoved it to the guy I believed to be Adam.

He looked down at the money in his hand like he was confused.

"Sorry to disappoint buddy but that's all I got. Now go run off with your friends and do whatever you guys do."

He looked back up at me alarmed, "No, no that's not what I wanted. I mean here—I didn't come over here for money. Usually Nick comes over bumming for money, not me. I'm just one of his roommates."

He handed me the five dollar bill back and I shoved it into my pocket, "Then what do you want?"

"I was just wondering where you were the past few days. Adam said he came over here a few days ago and he knocked quite a few times and you never answered. He said you always answer the door and he said he saw some pretty rough men in a shitty ass car pull up and he didn't stick around. He went back up to the house. I told him he was just exaggerating and shit like that but I came over here yesterday and you didn't answer and I thought something was up or you got hurt or something since your bike was still here and you always take your bike with you…well except when you go for walks in the morning…but ugh I was just coming to check up on you I guess. What happened to your face …and your leg?"

I heaved a sigh, "Nothing…just an accident." And with that I closed the door and went back to the living room and fell onto the couch.

'_Why do people keep bothering me? _ _And how the heck did he know I went for walks in the morning?' _I thought questioningly, wondering why people kept trying to help me. Wasn't it clear to people I didn't want to be bothered?

**Hopefully you guys enjoyed this chapter and are excited for Chapter 7:D I'm currently working on it right now actually and I can't wait to post it :) I have a few surprises waiting farther into the story but anyhow review, follow, favorite, and PM me...give me suggestions and such I would loveeeee suggestions :D Oh and let me know what you guys think of Mark? :)  
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	7. Chapter 7: Wildfire Declared

**Another chapter and this one by far is the longest one :D I'm actually really happy with this chapter even though it's really really gruesome and sad I enjoyed writing it! Finally there's some zombie action and next chapter Rick is going to wake up from his coma and chapter 9 I'm pretty sure Scarlet and "the group" are going to meet up! Maybe chapter 8...I don't know. Finally! But we'll see ;) Anyhow, please enjoy and read :D  
**

**Chapter 7: Wildfire Declared**

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53 days later…it's been 1 month and 23 days.

The power has been out for a while now and the dead roam the streets, smelling like rotten flesh and decayed matter. There isn't a single live soul in sight. Weeks ago the virus hit hard and there was widespread panic. The CDC was still working on a cure, but the virus spread like wildfire none less. The number of attacks increased and people turned—died of the bite…the fever…and they came back as a walking dead corpse to eat the flesh off of any living survivors. Pretty soon the whole state of Georgia…the whole country was hit with the virus and people just kept dying and dying and kept getting bit and torn apart and the number of dead people coming back increased. The only thing you could do was fight, survive, and run. Everything got overrun and refugees were sought after. The army was brought in and they tried to take out as many dead corpses as they could but they just kept coming. There were too many of them. Pretty soon the whole city of Atlanta was bombed and survival was the main priority. People ransacked places everywhere, gathered fuel and supplies and anything to protect themselves with and fled, hoping to find a safe haven. Some were lucky and made it out alive, and many weren't so lucky—many were torn apart by the dead corpses or bitten and turned into a dead corpse themselves. I happened to be one of those few lucky ones…and when it happened it was so fast…everything happened so fast.

I was at home when it happened—watching the News and everything went to shit in a blink of an eye. People were ransacking the local stores and vehicles jam packed the roads trying to get out of town. I ran outside to see all the commotion and I saw people running and screaming everywhere. I had my gun in the back of my soffe shorts and right in front of me I saw a little girl, about five years old, get pulled out her mother's arms and I watched… I WATCHED as that little girl got torn apart by a dead corpse. It sunk its teeth into her little neck and ripped away her flesh while blood squirted everywhere and pooled down her little sundress. I could see the pain and anguish in the little girls face and I watched as her mommy was dragged away by her daddy…both of them running and crying. Pretty soon two more dead corpses came and started tearing the flesh from the little girl's bones and her screams were drowned out by her choking on her own blood. They tore her stomach open and started chowing on her guts. I wanted to puke—cry…to scream out in shock and sadness. But I had one priority and that was to get away, to survive.

Just as I was about to run away and get my red bike though one of those dead things came stumbling after me and I heard it snarl at me and I saw its lifeless eyes staring me down—hungry for my flesh and guts. I pulled my gun out and shot, watched as the dead body jerked backwards and blood splattered out and it fell to the pavement with a loud thud. I could see more coming my way and more turn their heads my way, hearing the gunshot. I instantly regretted it because at least six of them started stumbling after me. After gathering my bearings I sprinted to my bike leaning against the house and I hopped on and started pedaling away as fast as I could, tears in my eyes and my gun back in its place. All around me I could see people getting torn apart by the flesh eating corpses and screaming filled the air along with snarling and desperate cries. I had to get out of there. There was widespread panic everywhere.

I pedaled away from Linden County with those freaks after me and got on Highway-20—heading to King County. I thought maybe things there were better perhaps. After pedaling for who knows how many miles I was winded and my legs burned from pedaling for so long. I made it to King County and it wasn't any better than Linden County. Vehicles jam packed the streets and people were ransacking the stores everywhere. There were dead corpses everywhere eating people and tearing them apart and dead corpses were coming after me. I needed to find a hiding spot or steal car—I was too tired to pedal anymore so I had to drop my old red bike on the grass next to a sidewalk and I pulled my gun out just in case one of those things got too close. They were everywhere feeding on people and there were still some freaks coming towards me.

I had to run into a nearby house and I slammed the door shut and locked it. Not even a minute later I heard the corpses banging on the door…scratching at it and snarling, desperate to get to me. I had my gun out and as I was about to turn around but one of those dead corpses came out of nowhere and stumbled right over to me and we both fell to the ground. My gun fell out of my hand and slid across the ground. It was a small woman so I was able to push the disgusting thing off from me before it sunk its teeth into the base of my neck and I was able to grab my gun. I rammed it into the side of its head and it fell to the ground and I just kept slamming the gun into its rotten head, blood and brain pieces splattering onto my face and torso.

When I finished smashing the disgusting things head in all I could feel was numb. I couldn't believe what was happening. I was covered in blood and brain bits and drenched in sweat and my heart was racing a mile a minute. And on top of all that there were still more of those things out side banging on the door and I didn't know how long before that door gave in.

I searched the house quickly and found an attic and I managed to get up in the attic before I could hear the front door crack open and those nasty freaks were snarling and searching for their missing food. I had to cover my mouth to make sure I didn't breathe to hard or cry out. The last thing I wanted was to be stuck in the attic.

**CURRENT DAY**

* * *

I've been stuck in the attic for at least a week now. I've never been so hungry or thirsty in my life…but the thought of eating anything makes me want to puke my guts out. Every time I think about eating I think about those freaks eating the flesh off from people—off from that little girl. I think today is safe enough to try and get out though. The last time I checked to see if there were any dead corpses lingering around there were about ten of them to say the least.

Soundlessly, I undid the attic ladder and climbed down from the attic. I had my gun poised and I looked around and I didn't see any dead freaks around and I couldn't hear any of them so I quietly snuck upstairs and into one of the bedrooms and closed the door behind me. I didn't need anything sneaking up behind me.

When I turned around though I was greeted with a gut wrenching stench and in front of me on the bed were two dead people. Not corpses, but _people_. The man had a shotgun in his limp hand and his wife was sitting right next to him in bed. Both had bullet holes in their heads. They must have…opted out.

I swallowed the lump forming in my throat and silently walked over to the bed and with some hesitation I pried the shotgun from his cold dead fingers. If I had any food in my stomach I would probably throw up right now, but seeming as I don't I just gagged.

A box of shotgun shells was on the side table next to the man so I grabbed the pack and next to the full pack was a picture frame of the couple, blood splattered onto the glass part. They were young and the man was handsome and the woman was equally just as beautiful. I wondered who they were and what they did for a living before everything went to hell. I felt sorry for them but in a way I didn't. They _chose_ to leave this world and they did it _their _way together. But why didn't they have hope? That's what caught me. But maybe it was different for me. I didn't have anything to lose or anybody to lose. I could die and it wouldn't mean anything. It would be people that got close enough for me to start to care about them that would damage me. If I lost somebody I cared about I don't think I could be the same ever. But maybe that is why it is different for me. I don't have anybody.

Just as I was about to go over to the closet I heard a loud noise—tires screeching against pavement and a loud bang. I crouched down and froze.

'_What the hell was that?_' I wondered curiously, because whatever that racket was and whoever was causing it was more than likely dead meat. That noise would certainly draw in more of those walking corpses.

I held my breathe nice and steady and waited for about five minutes before dismissing the problem and I continued on with what I was doing. If I wanted to get out of this house alive and in one piece I needed supplies.

I strode over to the closet looking for a duffel bag and I found just what I needed; a medium sized camo hunting back pack so I grabbed that and stuffed the box of shotgun shells into one of the pockets and I shoved the shotgun into the backpack itself, the barrel sticking halfway out. I kept my pistol in the back of my shorts just in case and I headed back down stairs, softly heading down the staircase as to not make the steps creak or anything. The last thing I needed was a bunch of those freaks coming after me again. I was not going to go back hiding out in an attic to wait for help I obviously wasn't going to get.

Heading into the kitchen I set my gun down on the counter and started raiding the cupboards and drawers. I found three cans of spaghetti o's, two cans of raviolis, five cans of corn, one can of string beans, four cans of sliced carrots, two cans of chicken noodle soup and one can of cream of mushroom soup for canned food. I also found a full bag of kettle cooked potato chips and a box of Swiss rolls. On the counter there was a full bag of mandarin oranges and a bundle of bananas. I also found five boxes of uncooked spaghetti and three jars of spaghetti sauce. I shoved all my findings into the hunting back pack. I was pretty darn happy with what I found. The food would certainly last me a while.

I also managed to find a large kitchen knife which I set on the counter. I was going to need it once I got out of this house. I couldn't rely on my handgun, the noise alone would draw those freaks in and I would run out of ammo in time. I searched around some more but I couldn't find anything else so I slung my backpack over my shoulder and snatched my kitchen knife and handgun and I snuck over into the living and found the jackpot.

There was a full gun case just sitting there untouched. There was a generic AK-47, a semi-auto rifle, a smith & Wesson model 59 handgun, a glock 17 handgun, another shotgun—a Browning Auto-5 and finally an assault rifle. The shotgun I got upstairs was a Remington 870. This house was a gold mine. In a small cubby drawer I found a bowie knife—it was long and the blade was double-edged at the point. All this stuff would certainly come to use. Thank god for men that loved their guns and knives. And I also found a bunch of ammo for the guns.

I managed to stuff the guns into my already full and heavy bag and the barrels were all sticking out and I stuffed the ammo into the pockets. I decided to put the kitchen knife into another pocket and I slung the backpack over my shoulder again and almost fell to the ground. The weight of the bag was super heavy and it pulled my body down but it wasn't anything I could handle. I looped my arm through the other handle on the hunting backpack and I left my Grand Puissance handgun out with my newly equipped bowie knife. I had my handgun shoved into the back band of my soffe shorts and the bowie knife in my small hand. It was time to get out of this house and somewhere else…maybe a refugee or something…something other than King County seeming as there were dead people slugging around everywhere. Maybe the CDC was safe…I could go there.

After situating the hunting bag onto my shoulders I crouched down and hid behind one of the walls and peeked outside the front doors which was completely tore down. The wood was snapped and cracked and splinters of wood shown. Peering outside I didn't see anything except for my old red bike lying on the green grass and I heard something…yelling? Somebody was frantically yelling for somebody else. I looked over to my left and there was a large black SUV that was hissing out steam from the engine. That must have been the large racket. Whoever was driving it crashed head on right into a tree. And then I saw a blond haired middle-aged woman in a white blouse and dark jeans frantically climb out of the backseat with a phone in her hand.

She looked like she was trying to dial a number or something and she dropped it to the ground; must have been broken. She suddenly backed up and started screaming again, "BILLY!? JAMIE!?"

She ran right pass the house I was in and I stepped out with my bowie knife ready for any of those freaks. I didn't see any but that could change any time. I called out to the frantic blonde woman who seemed froze—staring at something.

"HEY! Over here, hurry up and quit screaming you'll draw in more of them dead corpses lurking around here!"

She spun around just as I was sprinting over to her and I was able to catch up to where she was. I saw what she was staring at. The front yard of the abandoned house we were looking at had balloons tied up on trees and there was picnic table in the front yard with a red and white checkered cloth over top with what seemed to birthday food and a cake and some other birthday stuff and the grill was still on, the small flames licking the air. There was a blue cooler flipped over and it was empty and there was a dead man half eaten lying dead on the ground and there was a big splatter of blood on the red and white checkered table cloth. I covered my mouth. I could literally smell the dead stench in the air. The blonde woman next to me had a shocked look plastered on her worried face and I spotted a trickle of blood on her forehead.

She spun and screamed out again, "BILLY?! JAMIE?!" And she ran off heading for the next street and she turned the corner.

Why couldn't she listen? She was going to draw in those freaks wherever they were. I sprinted after her and as soon as I turned the corner I saw what she was staring at, her face full of disgust and something else. There were two corpses munching on a dead woman in the middle of the sidewalk. The dead corpse—the woman—in the purple shirt was gobbling up the dead woman's guts and the dead man corpse in the yellow vest was munching away at the woman's arm which was torn off. There was blood everywhere.

The yellow vest corpse turned away from his meal and noticed the blonde haired woman standing there. As soon as he saw live meat he started snarling at her and the corpse stood up and went after her. The purple shirt corpse was too engrossed in her meal and the blonde haired woman was running for her life so I snuck up behind the dead corpse still chowing on the guts and I shoved my bowie knife up into its skull. The corpse fell over limp and I wiped the disgusting blood off on my white tank top and I ran after the blond woman who was currently being chased by the other dead corpse.

The blonde lady ran up the steps to a house; address 2261 and was frenziedly trying to pry the door open, shaking the door handle and then trying to search for a key underneath the front mat. I was about ready to come up behind the yellow vest corpse and take my bowie knife and stab it from behind but all of sudden the door to the house flung open and a man with some longish brown hair and a faded mahogany red shirt with a shotgun blasted the corpses head off. Blood splattered all over my face and neck along with brain bits and the corpse fell limp to the ground.

"COME ON! GET IN HERE!" The shotgun man called out to me.

I looked up and he was wildly waving me in. I sprinted up to the house and he slammed the door shut and all three of us were standing there breathing in heavily and sweating our asses off. I was covered in blood and brain bits again and my heart was beating so fast I thought I was going to keel over. Then out of nowhere two young children come out and race towards the blond haired woman. One of them calls out and says "mommy" and the two children embrace their mother with open arms.

"Wait a minute…where did you get that? On your head?" The man asked the blond haired woman.

She looks up at the man and answers, "We…had an accident." She tucks a lock of messy blond hair behind her ear, "On All mill Road these people came out of nowhere…and I swerved and hit a tree."

The woman looked so distressed and disheveled and turns to her daughter, "Why didn't you stay in the car?" Her voice was sort of shaky while speaking.

The little blond haired girl spoke with watery eyes, about ready to cry, "I thought you were dead. The tears fell down her cheeks freely now and she gave her mom a hug. The blonde woman was crying as well.

Then all of a sudden the blonde looks around and looks back up to the man, "Where's Judy?"

The man was caught off guard and looked around for a second but regained his composure, "We have to take care of that gash on your head."

The woman nodded her head in agreement and she gave her kids one last hug. The man and the blonde left for the guest room and I decided to trail along and they sat down at a small round table. The man had a tan duffel bag full of equipment and weapons set on the small round table and he pulled out some medical stuff—some peroxide and Band-Aids and he started cleaning the woman's wound on her head. For some reason I felt like they knew each other…they seemed to be rather casual with each other. But who was Judy?

"Emergency broadcast system…it took over just before the power went out," The man spoke, wiping off the dried blood on the woman's forehead. I was leaning against the wall next to the table and I looked over to what he was relaying. He continued speaking, "It's happening…everywhere. Mike Palmer swears it's terrorists."

I furrowed my brows. Why would terrorists do this? That doesn't seem likely…not at all. This virus is more than likely widespread.

The woman rolled her eyes and looked at the man, "Ohhhhh…I'd never thought I'd live to see that day acquainting anything Mike Palmer had to say."

So these two did know each other…

"Well it's been that kind of day," The man dressing the blondes wound answered, looking sternly at the woman.

I was about to ask the man if he really believed that terrorists were doing all of this…using biological warfare but all of a sudden something caught my eye. It was one of the kids—Billy; he was hugging a blue doggy bowl. Both the man and the woman looked up as well to see who it was.

"Dad…I can't find Max," Billy spoke, looking desperate at the man.

I looked over at the man—so he was the father—but still who was Judy? I observed his features—his facial expression turned into one of being disturbed almost and he answered his son firmly, "He's asleep—right outside in the backyard."

Billy's face brightened up and he smiled, "I'll go wake him!"

The man all of a sudden turned sour and he was quite insistent, demanding, "NO! You're going to march right back in there and you're going to put that bowl back right where you found it."

The kid looked absolutely crushed—defeated. His father continued, "It doesn't belong to you."

I observed the man's demeanor and I figured something must have happened to Max, or else why would the man be acting so defensive and sour. I looked over at the blonde's face and she looked quite uncomfortable with the situation—I knew I was. I didn't like when people yelled…it just didn't sit right with me.

"It belongs to Max," The man finished, staring his child down.

I could feel anger boiling inside of me. That was no way to treat your child. And looking at the blonde I could see she was sharing similar feelings with me—to say the least she looked slightly pissed off.

The child nodded his head understanding his father's demand but he still stood in the doorway.

"GO!" The man yelled, making me jump and he pointed to the kid signaling to him to leave the guest room.

As soon as the kid left with his head hung down still hugging the blue doggy bowl the blonde woman turned on the man, "Andrew…"

"What?" The man looked confused, "I'm still his father…last time I checked."

The woman cocked her head to the side and spoke matter of factly, "Yeah—on weekends and holidays last time _I_ checked."

I swallowed the lump away forming in my throat and ran a hand through my messy tangled bronze-brown hair. Both the parents were staring each other down—both looking upset. I started walking out of the room until the man reached and grabbed me by the elbow. I immediately stiffened and slapped his hand away, "Don't touch me!"

My eyes were wide and fierce and I seemed to startle both the blonde woman and the man—named Andrew.

"Sorry…" The man apologized, recoiling his hand, "I'm just wondering if you're alright—got any cuts…scratches…bites?"

"No," I answered indifferently, giving the man a cold stare. I didn't like this man—I didn't like how he treated his child; that was no way to talk to your kid…but who was I to say how to raise or treat someone else's child? I shook my head and proceeded to walk out of the room until the blonde stopped me in my tracks, "What's your name?"

I turned my head, "Scarlet…yours?"

"Hannah—this here is Andrew my ex-husband."

I nodded and she continued speaking, "I should have listened to you earlier—I was just worried…I thought my children were gone and…I just…I don't know—panicked."

I didn't say anything and so Hannah continued speaking, "Today actually started off with a funeral. It was the goldfish…the damn goldfish. We held services around the toilet bowl. I just…keep thinking I'm gonna wake up."

I gave Hannah a small smile, "Don't we all think we're going to wake up—_hope _that we wake up?"

"Yeah…yeah I think so. Where are you from?"

"Linden County, you?" I asked, shifting in my spot. My backpack full of food and weapons was getting heavier by the minute it felt like.

"Albany."

I was curious so I had to ask, "Was it bad there—were there lots of people…infected?"

She shook her head, "No…not quite. We were already in the SUV on our way here and those things…that woman on that sidewalk…they were eating her guts and flesh and…and…ugh." She covered her mouth.

I peeked over at Andrew who was situating his guns in his tan duffel bag while Hannah still had one hand covering her mouth—remembering those freaks eating that woman. She removed her hand and stared out the window—even though you could barely see out of it, there was a sheer white curtain hanging up.

"I just wish I could start today over again. Billy's fish would be alive and everything would be back the way it was," Hannah added lastly and started fiddling with her thin necklace. And in that moment I could hear faint sirens outside. What was going on? Those sirens were going to draw in more flesh eating freaks. I went to go push the curtain to the side and peek outside until a blood-curdling scream rang throughout the house.

I dropped my bag and grabbed my bowie knife that I set on the small round table and bolted to the kitchen where the screaming was coming from and I could hear footsteps right behind me. As soon as I stepped into the kitchen I saw a dead corpse in a sundress that was filthy and bloody trying to tear down the pantry door. The kids were in there. And as I was about to run up behind the corpse to take it down the door snapped open and the kids were screaming their lungs off and Hannah ran past me, axe in hand, and screamed out, "Stay away from my family!" She swung the axe and the sharp blade sunk into the corpse's head, gross and gnarly blood squirting everywhere. The corpse fell limp to the ground.

Hannah looked a little shaken up, but seemed okay and she called out to her two children huddled up in the pantry, "Come one, everything is alright now."

I heard another pair of footsteps come up behind me and I whipped around, bowie knife ready to strike until I noticed it was just Andrew. He looked alarmed at the sight of my knife raised, but I let my arm fall to my side and I saw his eyes avert to the now officially dead corpse near the pantry and his face twisted up with all sorts of emotions—he mostly looked disturbed…upset. If I was to assume anything I was going to assume that was Judy—the dead corpse that Andrew's ex-wife just slaughtered. Well…took down seemed more appropriate since that _thing _was just trying to eat her children.

I heaved a sigh and followed Hannah and her two kids into the living room and she sat down on the plush couch, both kids next to her and locked underneath her arms. I stayed standing up…I wasn't so sure I wanted to sit down and Mark came in with his bag of guns, weapons and supplies and dropped it down on the wooden foot table.

His eyes reached mine for a fraction of a second and then he looked down expectantly at Hannah, "We can't just sit around…waiting for help to arrive? We have to get to a city—Atlanta."

As Hannah was ruffling Billy's hair Jamie spoke, "Mr. Palmer had a pick up," She looked up to her mother with a hopeful face, "I saw it parked outside his house."

Andrew nodded his head and looked to his ex-wife for assurance. Hannah, in all seriousness, "You know how to hot wire a truck?"

Andrew took a second to think something over and then his face lit up, "Maybe we won't have to. I know where the keys are."

"I'll go with you," I offered, looking at Andrew keenly. I wasn't going to sit back and wait for one man to go outside and risk his life for a set of keys. I would at least make myself useful.

Andrew shook his head, "No—it would be better if you stayed here. I know where to go."

I stared him down and decided to be stubborn, "I'm coming anyways."

He looked like he was going to argue but he decided against it, "Fine—you watch my back and I'll watch yours."

I nodded in agreement and gave one last look to Hannah and the two kids—Billy and Jamie.

**Mike Palmer's House**

* * *

Andrew and I were carefully sneaking down the basement staircase and Andrew had a flashlight in one hand and his shotgun in the other. Once we made it down to the end Andrew shined the light on the cement ground and there was a large trail of smeared blood along with tiny bloody shoe prints.

I felt goose bumps rise on my arms and neck. Something didn't feel right and I could feel my heart hammering in my chest and sweat streak down my forehead. Andrew was in front of me following the blood trail and I was following behind him—watching his back. I had my handgun in the band of my soffe shorts and bowie knife in my small hand.

I saw Andrew stop in front of me and I saw him crouch down and mumble, "Ahh shit…"

I peeked over his shoulder and saw what he was looking at. This Mike Palmer man was half eaten and there was blood covering his shirt and pants and his guts were spilled all over the floor. I choked back a cough and watched as Andrew shuffled around the dead body and found what he was looking floor—a set of keys.

But all of a sudden I heard a creak and I spun around as did Andrew and we were both staring at two children—a young boy and a young girl both dawning birthday hats and bloody smeared faces. Their eyes were completely lifeless and unsettling and they looked disgusting. They were dead corpses. They had rotted skin and I saw the young girl had flesh torn away from her neck. It reminded me of that little five year old girl I saw get torn apart. But I couldn't think of that right now because they were snarling at as and they started coming after Andrew and I.

There wasn't a lot of room in the basement and as I backed up I bumped into Andrew and the flashlight fell from his hand and all we could see were the corpse's feet and lower half coming towards us.

"Move! What are you doing just standing there?" I whispered harshly to Andrew who seemed frozen in place.

The young girl corpse was came toppling over to me and I managed to shove her away and she fell to the ground and the little boy corpse came after me and grabbed a hold of my white tank top with its tiny cold dead fingers. I heard a scream and I realized it was coming from my mouth and out of nowhere the little boys head was blown to pieces—more blood and brain bits splattering on me and all I could smell was the stench of the dead. I whipped around and I could see Andrew's faint silhouette in the dark and all I could see was the little corpse girl taking a chunk of flesh right out of Andrew's arm. He yelled out in pain and panic and I came up behind the freak and drove my knife into its skull. The snarling abruptly stopped and the corpse fell to the ground.

I didn't know what to do…I couldn't help him…I couldn't stop the infection—he was done for. Our eyes met for a fraction of a second before Andrew turned the barrel of the gun to his head and he closed his eyes. I leaped backwards and tripped over the dead boy corpse and fell flat on my ass and all I heard was an extremely loud BOOM! I heard Andrews body fall to the cement floor and the clang of the shotgun fall to the ground.

By this time I had tears prickling at my eyes threatening to spill over and I was scrambling to grab the flashlight off the ground. I managed to snatch up the flashlight and I grabbed Andrew's shotgun off of the ground. I debated whether or not to leave it here or keep but I ultimately decided to keep it. I would probably need the gun later. I just couldn't believe what just happened, it happened all so fast. Andrew saved me—had my back and I wasn't there for him when he needed me. I failed to have _his_ back. Before I could shame myself even further though I heard a loud voice come out of nowhere…like it was coming from a loud speaker.

"PEOPLE WHO CAN HEAR THE SOUND OF MY VOICE SHOULD MAKE THERE WAY TO A GREEN CONCESSION STAND AT THE NORTHEAST CORNER OF THE PARK. THERE'S AN EVACUEE TO ATLANTA."

I immediately got to my feet and headed back upstairs and looked out the front window. There was a helicopter up in the sky and there was dozens of dead corpses roaming around. They all seemed to be drawn to the helicopter which was making a lot of noise. And just outside I see Hannah backing up into a horde of those dead freaks and I instantly burst out of the house and scream in turmoil.

I raise Andrew's shotgun up and start to blast away at the corpses' heads as Hannah screams in pure misery and pain. The corpses are tearing the flesh from her bones and ripping her guts and intestines out. She screams out to me, "GO! GO! G—"

Her screams falter and she's choking on her own blood. I know she will be dead in any moment but I can't stop the warm tears soaking my round cheeks and my extreme rage right now. Pretty soon I've taken down at least ten of those ugly bastards and I'm out of shotgun rounds. I need my bag of guns and supplies and not too far from the feeding corpses is my hunting backpack and Andrew's tan duffel bag.

I pull my handgun out from my soffe shorts and start blasting away the rest of the feeding corpses. I grab both of the bags and sling them over my shoulders. They're extremely heavy but I wasn't going too far with them. I was going to take the Ford Mustang.

Walking up to the driver's door I take one last look at Hannah's torn body. Her body is completely torn apart, her torso separated from her lower half and her spine and intestine is showing—laying flat on the pavement. I see the torn away flesh all over her torso and a bite wound on her forearm. I can't help but silently cry. Why did the world have to come to this? Not even an hour ago she was talking about a dead goldfish—Billy's dead goldfish.

I spun around. '_Where the hell are the kids_?'

They were nowhere in sight. Hannah must have sacrificed herself for her children and told them to run. The kids must be going to that evacuation center in the park; I needed to get there. I gave one last look at Hannah and proceeded on my way over to the Ford Mustang. There was a dead corpse lying across the center counsel so I grabbed it by the shirt and dragged it out. It literally smelt like a rotten carcass.

I hopped in and there was—thankfully—a set of keys in the ignition. Twisting them the engine roared to life and I felt the powerful engine rumble vibrate through the car.

'_So much for saving money to buy a car…_' I thought sarcastically to myself.

Pressing my foot down on the brake I moved the shifter into drive and took off, spinning the car around and I took a right, heading down a road. I needed to find this park—a green concession stand.

As I sped off down the road I couldn't find the kids, they were nowhere in sight and I couldn't find the damn park. I kept driving and just up ahead I saw a large spec in the distance. It was the helicopter I noticed as I got closer and closer. But as I was getting closer I also noticed the helicopter was taking lift off and leaving.

'_What the hell?_'

I shoved my foot harder on the gas pedal but it was too late, the helicopter was already in flight and going higher up into the sky—leaving me behind. I just hoped Billy and Jamie were on there. I tried waving the helicopter down but that wasn't working so I guess I was on my own, again. Heaving a sigh I slammed on the brakes and pulled the trunk lever down and hopped out of the driver's seat and strode over to the trunk. Lifting it I threw my bag of guns and supplies in there and Andrew's duffel bag. I found a box of 9mm rounds and reloaded my Grand Puissance gun up and shoved my bowie knife in the band of my soffe shorts. I needed a sheath for this knife—it kept digging into my side. Maybe I could find a local gun store or something and rummage through the place. Maybe there would be more survivors hiding out. Maybe—that was the key word. I slammed the trunk down and climbed back into the driver's seat and closed my door and I was off again, heading to Atlanta.

**Thank you for reading and I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! :D Review and let me know what you guys think so far of the story and what you guys think of the walkers...too gruesome? And let me know if any of you guys are confused with anything I will hopefully clear things up for ya! And follow, favorite and PM me that would make my day :D I love new followers and knowing that people are reading my story-seriously:D Anyhow, Chapter 8 is being typed up :D**


	8. Chapter 8: Headed To Atlanta

**Well here's chapter 8 which I worked really hard on and it is REALLY long so hopefully it makes up for me not posting anything in a while. I was going to post yesterday but I was stuck dealing with an incident, my step-dad decided to take my truck out and go gambling at the casino and go drink at the bar while we were under winter advisory for an ice storm and he got in a wreck on M-20 and totaled my truck. The whole tail-gate and frame is ruined and the axle is ripped out of it and it's officially un-driveable and I was sooo mad yesterday and still am since that was my first car I got for my 16th birthday just a month ago and he just think it's a joke. He wasn't supposed to be driving my truck and he also left the scene and he doesn't have a license and my mom and him got in a big argument and everything and after he came home the same night and the next morning get this he yells at me for eating his cereal and tells me I need to buy him a new box! Well buddy I'll buy you a new box of cereal when you buy me a new car! But my mom is calling the lawyer tomorrow and getting a hold of Isabella police since Midland police refused to take a theft report and now my mom is probably going to be held responsible for the wreck by her insurance since Midland isn't going to take a report and now it's all up to her insurance, but here is chapter 8 now :D I really want to know what you guys think on this chapter I've edited and altered some things so I hope you guys like it! And as you will see I don't follow The Walking Dead timeline perfectly but anyhow enjoy!  
**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to The Walking Dead**

**Chapter 8: Headed to Atlanta  
**

* * *

After making it out of King County I only made it about 15 miles down the road until I was rolling to a stop with no gas. I was absolutely in the middle of nowhere. I couldn't go back—that gas station had no gas and corpses prowling around and that whole town had flesh-eating creeps crawling about as well and I couldn't go forward since I was running on fumes and out of gas and to my left and right was just a bunch of plowed down empty wheat and corn fields. There was nothing and I was on my own and it was getting darker out by the minute. Mulling everything over I decided my best plan was to eat something first and foremost since I hadn't eaten anything all week and second, my only choice was to bunker down for tonight. I would have to get up early tomorrow morning and hitchhike it down the road to try and look for any nearby towns, gas stations, or abandoned cars for some gas because I wasn't getting anywhere with an empty tank. I was a sitting duck—live bait.

So after retrieving the two bags out of the large trunk and rummaging around in my hunting back pack I found earlier today I decided to eat a banana and an orange. It was better to eat the food that would perish first so it wouldn't go bad. Afterwards I shuffled through Andrew's bag and found a bottle of water. I chugged at least half of it. There were about six more full water bottles in his bag so I wasn't too concerned about drinking half of the water bottle. If I found a convenient store I would try to find some more water. But as I was rummaging through his bag I found something that wasn't necessarily essential for survival. It was a picture frame of what looked like that corpse that Hannah took down with the axe back in the kitchen. Judy. She was hugging a white dog with brown patches everywhere, one covering his eye and she was smiling. She was really pretty actually. Seeing her as one of those freaks though one would think differently but I couldn't imagine what Andrew must have gone through finding out that his wife had turned into a flesh eating corpse. I couldn't imagine anyone going through that.

There was another picture frame and this one consisted of Hannah and her two kids—Billy and Jamie. I could feel the lump in my throat rise. They were all smiling happily like a family should be. My mind suddenly went back to earlier today when Hannah was getting torn apart like piece a meat from those freaks. I remember hearing her pain ridden screams and then her choking on her blood.

I remembered all of it and everyone and everything. Andrew having my back when I failed to have his and those two little kids that were turned into those flesh-eating freaks and their little birthday hats…that little girl having her neck flesh ripped right off and then torn apart, her guts going everywhere, that lady on the sidewalk being eaten, that man by the picnic table dead…Mike Palmer…the couple that opted out. Why was the world so cruel? Hannah didn't deserve to go out that way…having to sacrifice herself for her two children who unknowingly just also lost their father; and how about that little girl getting pulled right out of her mommy's arms…that woman in the street and everyone else that got taken by this new virus...those flesh eating corpses. And why, out of everything, why was I still here? I didn't have anybody to lose, if I could I would have traded places with Hannah or Andrew or that little girl. Why did I deserve to still be alive? It didn't make sense to me.

Pushing all those bad memories aside I shoved the two picture frames deep down into the duffel bag. I didn't want to be reminded. I already felt guilty enough drinking Andrew's water. For a second I wondered if I should have left the bag in the street and just grabbed my own bag. I knew if I would have been the one to get eaten back there I would have wanted Andrew to grab my bags—they would need the food and weapons. So why was I feeling like this? I didn't know. I felt so guilty, but there wasn't anything I could have done. That freak already had its teeth sunk into Andrew's arm once I turned around…and that look he gave me when we both made eye contact—he was clearly pleading for me to leave, silently letting me know that his time was up. That look in his eyes was so strong I don't think words could have made a bigger impression. So why was I guilt tripping myself? I had no clue.

By the time I finished rummaging through the bags I was able to organize them, food and water in my hunting pack and all the guns, weapons, ammo and medical supplies in the duffel bag since there was more room and I was able to zip the bag up without any of the barrels sticking half out. I was also feeling a bit better than before, even still being hungry and all but I had to conserve my food. I was still a little down also after remembering today's earlier events and everything and whether or not I should feel guilty but overall I was feeling a little bit better.

I ended up just heaving the two bags over to the passenger seat and I locked the doors to the Mustang since it was already dark out now. Not that I thought for second that the windows were going to protect me from those freaks but I hoped I wouldn't have to encounter any problems like that.

Laying down in the backseat I stretched my sore legs out. I was short enough to sleep full length back here and I was grateful of that but it wasn't like I needed all the space. When I slept I usually curled up into a tight ball, like the fetal position and slept that way—it was how I was the most comfortable. So curling up, I closed my hazel eyes and waited for sleep to claim me. I ended up over the night waking up numerous times screaming so loud I thought my ears would bleed. I kept dreaming about those rotten corpses coming after me and ripping the flesh from my bones or about that little girl and everyone I saw die just in the last week. And even if I wanted to sleep my mind wouldn't let me. I kept worrying about them coming up to the windows and breaking in. I would drift off here and there but not for long.

By the time morning came and the first light was showing I gave up on sleeping and hopped up front in the driver's seat. I rummaged through the hunting pack and ate a banana and an orange. The fruit still didn't completely fill me up but I didn't mind. I took a few chugs of the half-filled water bottle from yesterday and stored the rest for later.

Unlocking the Mustang I climbed out and into the already warm air knowing today was going to be just as hot as yesterday and I needed to get a move on if I wanted to find any gas. I contemplated on an idea for a few minutes and decided to follow through with it. Not wanting to just leave my newly found car out in the middle of the road I was going to put it in neutral and push it. It was probably a crazy idea but it was my only transportation and I didn't want someone to come along and take it—along with my bags full of supplies and weapons. What if they had extra gas or something…it could happen.

So following through, I put the Mustang in neutral and braced one arm on the steering wheel and the other on the open door and started pushing. The car wasn't going far but it was rolling a little bit and it wasn't sitting in one place—I was making progress. But after at least who knows how many hours of pushing I was completely exhausted and I had no energy left to push this heavy car anymore and I hadn't come upon any small towns, gas stations, convenient stores or any abandoned cars. Just rolling fields of nothing and a blazing sun that was nearly going to give me a stroke. I downed the rest of my water bottle from earlier and one more so now I was down to five water bottles and I ate another orange.

I could take a break but I didn't think I could push the car another mile no matter what. The muscles in my toned arms were pretty worn out and sore and so were my thigh muscles. I had to use all the muscles in my body to heave this car down the road in neutral. So to say the least I was going to have to park the car on the side of the road and hitchhike from here on out. And I wasn't going to leave my bag of guns and medical supplies behind so I was going to have to carry that heavy bag with me whether or not I liked it. I decided I was going to leave my food and water behind though…if I had any luck I could find more food and water but I was going to need that hunting pack—empty. I didn't have any pockets either since my soffe shorts were just plain black night-time shorts—just like regular shorts except made out of cotton with no pockets.

So sticking with my new idea I rolled the car over to the side of the road and dumped the food and water contents out of the hunting pack and I put my keys into one of the pockets. I stuffed two water bottles into my pack and a banana and orange. My Grand Puissance was faithfully in the waistband of my soffe shorts and my bowie knife was in the side of my waistband—still digging into my side since I didn't have a sheath for it, but I needed a silent weapon and that was it. My handgun was for backup. After gearing up I was ready to head out so I slung the duffel bag over my shoulder and my hunting pack over my other shoulder and started making my way down the empty deserted road.

After about 8 miles or so of walking down the road in the blistering heat I was drenched in sweat and out of breath. I didn't think these guns weighed that much but apparently they did because they were killing my shoulder and getting heavier by the minute. So as I was about to set the duffel bag down on the side of the road and sit down myself I heard some gunshots pop off in the distance.

Immediately I dropped the two bags I was carrying and spun around, trying to see where those shots came from. I didn't see anything. For a few moments I just stood in my spot and waited for any other gunshots but none came. Not even a sign showed where those gunshots came from.

That was until I saw something off in the distance from the way I was coming. It was a vehicle. My first reaction was to wait until the vehicle got closer and I would wave whoever was driving down but my instinct told me to hide and do it now. I went with my instinct and grabbed the dropped bags and jumped in the deep ditch right next to me. I didn't really have many options for hiding spots so that was where I hid. The ditch was deep enough for me not to be seen if a vehicle went by so I was feeling pretty safe.

I had to lay flat—belly down though and the bag of guns was lying right next to me. The only con was that the ditch was full of muddy gross ditch water and I was laying right in it along with the duffel bag and the water had already soaked through my white tank top and soffe shorts. I could feel the water now starting to soak through my underwear and bra. My face was partially in the gross ditch water so I moved my arms so I could fold them in front of me so I could set my chin on them and I waited for the vehicle to pass by.

I didn't know if the person driving was safe or not…the last time I went walking down a road by myself I was kidnapped and stuffed in a trunk. I couldn't take those chances—not when there were flesh eating corpses walking around the earth now. And I had guns, lots of guns so who was to say that this person didn't want what I had and what if that person had other people with him/her? I couldn't fend off a group of people, maybe two people but the odds were stacked against me if there were more than two people in the vehicle. I had to play things safe now—be smart and think. The wrong move could mean game over for me.

And just like I thought a vehicle—a large SUV that looked like a Tahoe—went by but not how I thought it would. It skidded to a stop just a little up the road and I heard four doors slam shut and a bunch of voices that belonged to men echo in the still muggy air. The hair on the back of my neck rose and I held my breath. I could feel my heart beating against my ribcage and just when I thought I couldn't be any more frightened I was proved wrong. A woman started screaming her head off and I could tell it was coming from the Tahoe and I heard a baby crying and some shouting—two men arguing it sounded like. I tried to shake my nerves and listen in.

"You piece of shit…get the fuck off my wife you bastard!"

I heard skin hitting skin and some grunting noises and I closed my eyes. I was pretty sure I knew what was happening.

Then a woman's voice, the one that was just screaming, pitch in with a shaky and petrified voice, "Don't hurt him—please just let him go and my baby…you can do whatever you want with me…please…" Towards the end I could hear her start to cry more and sob and a man laugh at her.

The same man that was laughing I assumed spoke in sickly taunting tone, "Oh sweetheart—don't cry we're going to take care of your husband for ya' and then your baby and then we're going to have some fun with ya'."

My heart ached with sadness and my blood boiled with anger. How could there be such sick minded men still in the world that existed? It wasn't right, and just as I was contemplating a plan on how I could help this poor family out I heard voices nearing my location.

"Tony I think your seein' shit again…there ain't no lamebrain walking around here."

The person I assumed was Tony answered the other guy, "Dave, I told you, I saw something I swear! I ain't makin' shit up! What if it's another survivor? We saw that fine lookin' Mustang back there."

The Dave man spoke, "Yeah…could be a lot of things. You see that blood stain in the passenger seat? Somebody got shot in the head…but there's no body…and no keys."

Tony replied, "Maybe the driver dumped the body a while back…something. Somebody could have gotten bit and needed to be taken care of and they ran out of gas and decided to take it on foot. But whoever was driving sure had a hell lot of food they left behind—man that Swiss roll was damn good. I swear though the driver isn't too far from here I saw something—it could have been a lamebrain though. "

I heard the Dave guy give a huff and with a sour tone, "Look around Tony!? You see anybody? Cuzz I sure don't! Now let's go—we gotta take care of that cryin' baby and that bitch and her ol' man in the back. Come on."

With that the two men left and waltzed back to the SUV and I listened as the doors slammed shut. By my guess I was pretty positive that there were absolutely three men no doubt but I had a feeling there were more. I wasn't sure if I could help this family—there were too many people to take on and it sounded like they were all men and I was running short on time if I wanted to do anything. And speak of running out of time the SUV's engine roared to life and the tires were squealing against the pavement, leaving only smoke behind.

I was able to let my breath out and actually breathe now and my muscles relaxed.

'_That was a close call…_'

And after lying in the mucky ditch water for another five minutes or so just to be safe I lifted myself up and got on my two feet. Water started dripping off of me and looking down at my white tank top I saw that it was soaked and so were my soffe shorts. That and blood splatter stains still covered the front of my white tank top from yesterday and from last week when I had to take down that freak in the house. I could only imagine what my face looked like.

Bending down I snatched the heavy duffel bag up out of the nasty water and swung it over my shoulder and grabbed my hunting pack and swung that over my other shoulder. With a little effort I climbed out of the gross wet ditch and back up to the road and I gazed where the SUV left. There was nothing. Thank goodness.

Shaking off the close encounter I continued on down the road a few more miles until I came upon a field and there was an old white farmhouse in the distance. I got off the highway and headed into the field towards the house.

Once I made it across I was approaching the house—the white paint was chipping off from age and there was an enormous oak tree right in the middle of the front yard with a tire swing hanging off one of the large branches. There was also an old red and white Chevy truck parked in the driveway and to the right of the house some old brown fencing containing a horse roaming around grazing on grass.

The place was quite beautiful even for being sort of run down but it had a sense of normal. I wondered if anybody was still here, wouldn't hurt to check. So I trotted up the gravel driveway and up the front steps to the large door. Dropping the bags I gently knocked my fist on the door three times. I waited but there was no answer. On high alert I went over to the window and shielding my eyes with my hand to get a good look I saw a woman sprawled out on the floor and a man sprawled out on the couch—shotgun in hand and a box of shells dumped on the floor next to the woman. Blood splattering the wall and blood pooled on the carpet flooring. They were dead. And just above the man on the wall where the blood splatters were there were words painted in a hurry, 'GOD PLEASE FORGIVE US.'

I quickly retracted my head and staggered backwards. They must have opted out…just like that other couple. Why couldn't people have hope? Oh right maybe because there are flesh eating freaks roaming the world now and sick twisted men lurking around kidnapping families. So why didn't I opt out? I don't know…maybe because I think this whole ordeal can be fixed somehow…just maybe and I didn't want to die—I _wanted _to survive.

Quickly I retreated and swooped up my bags and went around back to see if I could find a gas can or something to hold gasoline in. I ended up finding a red gas can in a rickety shed that looked like the wind might blow it over and a few things that could come in handy—a few screwdrivers, a hammer, a shovel, a wooden bat, a gut hook knife with a sheath and a rusty pair of scissors. I decided to swipe the hammer, gut hook knife, sheath, the screwdrivers and the rusty scissors. I didn't have much room for the shovel or wooden bat and I left the shed and headed over to the old Chevy truck.

After grabbing the hammer out of the bag I set the bags down and the gas can and I myself dropped to the ground and scooted underneath the back of the truck where the gas tank was. The underneath carriage was pretty darn dirty but it wasn't anything I wasn't already used to. Back home when I used to work on cars on a daily basis a dirty undercarriage was pretty common. Just something you had to get used to. So sliding my bowie knife from out of my waistband I steadied it at the gas tank and brought the hammer up to it and readied myself before I stabbed a hole into the tank and hoped it wasn't empty.

Once the knife went through and gasoline came gushing out and onto my face I quickly backed out and snatched the red gas can and I hurried up to unscrew the cap so I could put the opening up to where the gas was coming out and collect some gas. After about three minutes or so my gas can was almost filled and the gasoline that was pouring out quit altogether. I should have enough to make it to Atlanta.

But as I was relaying in the fact that I wouldn't be stuck in the middle of nowhere any longer than I had to I heard something off in the distance. It was vehicle barreling down the road and the sound was coming closer by the second. My heart skipped a beat and I knew I had to get the hell out of sight. It would be only a matter of seconds before the vehicle would pass by and I had to crawl out from under this old truck and grab my bags and hide.

Hurriedly I dragged myself out from underneath and snatched my bags, slinging them over my thin but strong shoulders and with the almost full gas can in my hand I hoofed it across the front yard to the back yard and I threw myself into the rickety shed—all the while closing the two doors in the process and I held my breath.

Faintly I could hear an engine roar into the driveway and doors slam shut and then I couldn't hear anything. Whoever was driving must have cut the engine but something told me these could be the same people from earlier. But on the other hand I could be completely wrong—these could be just other survivors. There was only one way to find out.

I set the bags on the ground and the gas can and inched my way over to the doors in the dark shed and I pushed one open just a tiny crack. I could just barely see past the house but I could definitely see the back end of a black SUV. Definitely not new people. And there were a bunch of men lumbering around the vehicle and grabbing bags and supplies and it looked like they were bringing all the stuff into the house. They must be bunkering down here for the night. And then I saw them. The family. One of the men who looked pretty beefy was dragging a woman out from the backseat like a rag doll across the gravel and another man was leading what looked like the woman's husband across the driveway in a blindfold. He was struggling with the man leading him trying to get free and some other man was carrying the baby and cooing at it.

And just as I was about to carefully shut the door I noticed another man stalking off in my direction.

'_Oh shit…_'

My heart started racing and I quickly let go of the door and I jumped back. He was going to find me and there was no escape. I just had to wait for my ultimate fate. And not even a minute later the doors to the shack flung open and there I was with my hand gun pointed right at the man's face.

I glared at him and with a shaky voice I tried to make sound deadly I spoke, "Move one inch or…or make a sound and I'll blow your damn head off."

The man had a startled look plastered all over his face. To say the least he looked scared shit-less. And like I told him he didn't make a peep, but instead he quickly made a quick move for his gun in his gun holster and before he could take a shot at me I pulled the trigger. The bullet went straight through his head and he jerked backwards, his own gun falling out of his hand and he slumped to the ground.

For a split second I felt bad—felt remorseful but he was going to kill me if I didn't do anything and if I hadn't done anything in the first place he would have taken me back to his other friends and bad things would be in store for me. No doubt. But I only had a second to feel sorry then angry until I heard voices nearing the shack and footsteps coming my way. They heard the gunshot. Thinking quickly I stuffed my bags in a nearby cubby and I pointed my gun and waited.

5…4…3…2…1

Five men came rushing into the shed and I before I could do anything they had me pinned to the ground and they were dragging me off to the house and not so gently whatsoever. Once inside one of the men pinned me down roughly and bound my arms behind my back and wrapped my wrists together with duct tape and then proceeded to bind my ankles together so I couldn't run.

He also grabbed my bowie knife in my waistband and he had my hand gun already shoved in _his_ waistband—I must have dropped it when they threw me to the ground in the shack. Then he grabbed my elbow and literally dragged me up the stairs and to a bedroom and he threw me to the ground.

"You get to say in here with a friend," The man spit out at me, looking over at somebody behind me.

I looked over and saw the woman huddling in the corner with her feet bound up just like mine and her arms behind her back bound up as well. The man left and the door clicked shut and I heard it lock. Immediately I rolled over to my back and got up to a sitting position and faced the woman. She had a few nasty bruises on her pretty face and a trickle of dried blood coming from her nose and her light brown hair was all tangled up. She also had dirt on her face and shirt and arms and legs. Dirt covered her whole frame and she looked so disheveled I wanted to give her comfort words but who was I convincing we were going to be alright? We were stuck with these men with no way out with no weapons. I instead kept silent. That was…until she spoke, "Are…you okay?"

I looked up at her and I couldn't form any words. Was I okay? I just gave her a half-hearted nod and dropped my head again. That was until she spoke again, "What's your name? Mine's Samantha."

I peeked back up to her and gave a small smile filled with no emotion, "Scarlet."

She smiled, but her smile actually touched her face and her emotions were written all over, "Where are you from?"

Without hesitation I answered, "Linden County."

"Oh…"

And with that she furrowed her brows and stared off into space for moment before adding in a sincere heart-broken hushed tone, "I'm scared…those men out there—they're pretty tough looking and they have my husband and...baby."

I nodded my head and averted my eyes so I was looking at the ground. I was pretty damn scared myself because those men did look scary and tough and just looking at their eyes you could see remorse or guilt; sick, demented men—that is what they were.

And just as I was thinking of how sick and messed up these men were I heard the door lock being fiddled with and then two men came waltzing in with cocky faces and wicked grins. One was pretty big…not muscular wise but hefty in weight. He would probably squish me if he sat on me and then the other one was normal sized—but definitely not beefy nor scrawny. If he was the only I had to take on then I could probably take him on a few rounds—tire him out then finish him off but he wasn't the only guy in the house so I didn't have chance in hell.

The normal sized man spoke in a casual tone, "I'm Dave…this here is Tony."

He pointed at his larger friend and cocked his head, "What's your name sweetheart? Damn…you are fine as hell…"

His friend, Tony butted in all the while staring at me with eyes raking my body, "I would sure like to get a piece of that ass."

He licked his lips and the Dave guy gave Tony a weird glance. I couldn't decipher what his expression was but I didn't like it. Then he turned back to me, "Sorry bout my friend here…we just…haven't seen such a gorgeous woman in a while or have gotten laid in a while…but how bout that name of yours?"

I kept my mouth glued shut and avoided his piercing gaze.

Then he huffed and gave me an evil smirk and sneered at me, "Or don't give me your name hun…don't matter either way."

Goosebumps rose on my body and when I thought he was going to grab me he didn't. The two men turned around and left but before Dave shut the door behind him he poked his head back in, "You ladies get a good night's rest—tomorrow we're all going to have some fun how bout it?"

I just stared him down the best I could as he grabbed his crotch and made an obscene gesture and he chuckled on his way out. Sick.

I turned my body back around and I stole a glance at the woman. She looked absolutely mortified. And even though she looked the part I felt it. I've never had sex in my life so I was still a virgin and quite frankly I was terrified. Sex and rape were obviously two different things and having sex the first time I've heard hurts like hell so I couldn't imagine what being raped felt like for the first time. Actually—I didn't want to imagine it. I wanted to be back home on my cozy sofa watching TV or going for a relaxing walk outside in the warmth or back working in the mechanic shop. Hell I would even rather be stuffed in a trunk again; anywhere else but this place.

So to say the very least…I was pretty sure me and Samantha were outta luck unless we could somewhat miraculously find a way out, and I was pretty sure the odds weren't too much in our favor. So resting my head in between my knees I closed my eyelids and slowly I drifted off to sleep.

The next time I awoke it was blindingly bright in the room and someone was roughly grabbing me by the elbow and dragging me out of the room and downstairs. I started squirming in the man's grasp and that only awarded me with a kick to the side as he threw me to the ground harshly. I gasped and immediately my hands flew to my ribcage. The man that just dragged me down was laughing his ass off; that only made my blood boil in my veins.

**HOSPITAL**

* * *

The power had been out for a while now—along with Rick's heart monitor and oxygen machine. He was unshaven and scraggly looking and he was slowly waking up, this time without being in a hallucinating state and everything was clear…or as clear as it could get.

He weakly let out a laugh, remembering the vase Shane just set on his side table moments ago. Or so he thought Shane was just at his bed side moments ago. He spoke anyhow, "That vase…that's somethin' special. Now fess up, where'd you get it from? Steal it from granny's house?"

Rick let out another raspy dry laugh and took a minute afterwards to catch his breath. There was eerie silence hanging in the air and Rick took a second to actually look around his hospital room. The curtains were pulled back and murky light was filtering into the dim room. No one was there.

A very confused Rick was wondering where the heck his best-friend went off to, he was just by his bed-side telling Rick about the vase of flowers.

"Shane?" Rick called out in a strained voice.

There was no answer, "Shane…you in the Jon?" Rick called out again, this time a little louder.

Again there was no answer whatsoever. Rick was just talking to the thin air—an empty room. He craned his neck and looked around the room again. To his right he saw something that was different…odd. On the side table the blue vase with the intricate design was sitting there and the flowers inside the vase were still there except… the flowers were long dead—dried up and crinkly and the dead petals littered the side table. There was also a yellow piece of paper underneath the vase. Rick didn't remember Shane setting that there and he was confused as to why the flowers were dead. How long had he been out? Why hadn't anybody woken him up?

Rick found the call button for the nurse and pressed it but no one came. He continued pressing it but still to no avail no one came. Rick took a second to glance up at the clock and it too was strange…the hands weren't moving—the clock was stopped—frozen.

Rick was starting to realize something was out of place—that something wasn't right and the power was out. He called out to try and summon a nurse but his voice was still strained. No one came. Since he wasn't getting anywhere with just sitting there in his hospital bed he decided to take measures into his own hands—he needed answers and to see what the whole problem was.

Doing so, Rick sat up in his bed and swung his legs over the bed frame all the while ripping the oxygen tube from out of his nose. At first he got a little dizzy but was able to regain his clear conscious again and he looked up at the IV bag—it was completely empty. He attempted to stand up using the IV stand as support but the stand couldn't hold his weight and both the stand and Rick fell to the ground—hard.

Rolling over he grabbed his side where he got shot and called out, "Nurse! Help!"

The fall caused pain to shoot through Rick's side and he was in an unbelievable amount of agony at the moment and overall still very confused at the situation. Rick managed to pull himself up though and off the ground and succeeds in getting to his feet without stumbling over. He turned back to the side table and moved the blue vase over and grabbed the yellow notepad paper. There was a note scrawled in cursive, he read it out loud—mumbling, "Dear Officer Rick, you don't know me but you and your other policemen saved my life a few days ago and I am so grateful of that. I really hope you get well soon and are back on your feet in no time, sincerely—the girl down the hall."

If Rick was confused before—he was ten times more confused now. When did he save anyone's life? And again…how long had he been out? What day was it and why was the power out and where was Shane? Where was anybody?

Rick folded the note up and held onto it and staggered over to the nearby hospital bathroom. He stopped just at the sink and turned the faucet on and started slurping up the water coming out. The water was so refreshing and relieved the dryness in his throat.

Turning off the faucet Rick looked up in the small mirror and took in his appearance with what little light he was given. He was surprised at how unkempt he looked—almost shocked with his appearance. He was unshaven and his hair was grown out a little bit.

Afterwards he left the bathroom and stumbled his way out into the hospital hallway. Opening the door he noticed there was a hospital bed that was blocking his doorway. Why was that there? He pushed the bed away over a bit and took a second to actually look around, noticing that the hallway was deserted and in disarray. Papers trashed the tiled floor and some of the fluorescent lights up above were hanging down by the electrical wires.

He opened the note again, "The girl down the hall." Rick looked to his left and saw a nurse's desk and then he looked to his right—there was one hospital room down a ways and the door was wide open. Taking a few weary steps forward, Rick started making his way down the hall all the while taking in his surroundings. The hallway was so eerily quiet and quite unsettling. The air was stale and there was this seemingly heavy weight lurking around.

Once Rick made it to the last room that had the door wide open he slowed his pace and slowly shuffled into the room quietly. He abruptly halted in his place once he was close enough to touch the hospital bed. There was a young woman—perhaps 25 maybe 27 lying down stiffly and paled with an ashen tone. She had a bullet hole right in the middle of her forehead and she was dead. Blood splattered the white wall and the blankets that were covering the dead woman and the pillow she had her head rested on.

In horror Rick stumbled backwards and nearly tripped on his feet. He couldn't believe what he had just seen. The woman was murdered—executed. What happened to this place? He was completely and utterly dumbfounded.

In astonishment and in shock Rick left the room and headed back down the hallway, only wearing his boxers and a hospital gown that was untied and showed his white bandage covering his gunshot wound from the shootout.

As he made his way down the hallway and to the desk he saw he started roughly shuffling the papers around to look for a flash light or lighter or anything that could provide more light. He came across a small pack of matches and he flipped the cover open—there were five worn looking matches. He held onto the pack of matches in the same hand he had the note in.

Making a bee line down the hallway he took a turn and noticed that the lights above were torn up just like the ones from earlier except these ones were far worse for wear. The white wall to his right had a line of bullet holes with blood splatters plastering the white wall along with a few bloody hand prints here and there. At the end of the torn up hallway there were double doors.

A very stunned Rick walked further down the hallway and stopped when he noticed a 4x4 piece of ply wood stuffed into the door handles and chains wrapped around the handles with a padlock hanging down. On the grayish steely double doors there were words painted on, 'DON"T OPEN—DEAD INSIDE!'

Rick cocked his head to the side, confused at the meaning of the words that were painted in blood and he took a few steps towards the door. Faintly Rick started to hear grotesque snarling and the doors all of a sudden push forward and the piece of plywood and padlocked chain strain and stop the door from completely opening. Rick took a step back just as a stark white hand reached out of the small crack and started to claw at the door and padlock. The hand had torn fingernails and was pale and ashen—dead like. There was more snarling that was growing louder by the second and now the double doors were seemingly rocking back and forth as the flesh eating corpses were shoving against it trying to break free to get to their meal—Rick Grimes. More dead like hands started to poke out of the tiny crack and were clawing at the steel door.

A terrified Rick took a few more steps back as the grunting and snarling noises rose and soon enough Rick was turning fully back around and was heading back to the other hallway. He found an elevator right across from the nurse's desk and frantically started pushing the button for the doors to slide open. The doors stayed shut and Rick remembered that the power was out, but quite conveniently there was a staircase not too far away from the elevator.

Rick made his way over to the stair well and he pushed the heavy door open and was greeted with darkness—no shed of light at all. Stepping into the abyss of darkness the door clicked shut behind Rick and he started fiddling with the matches, pulling one out and striking it against the fire igniter. The match came to life and Rick looked around to focus in on his surroundings. He headed for the first flight of stairs and started sauntering down the steps until his match slowly died out and it was pitch black again. Rick, striking another match continued on and was officially down to three matches. He made it to the second flight of stairs and by the time he made it down to the last flight he had one more match left. Striking the match he looked up above on the wall and there and behold was the EXIT sign in bold red letters that once glowed red.

Rick pushed the thick steel door open and bright light instantly blinded him for a moment and an unbelievable putrid stench evaded his senses. The sun was glaring down on Rick and he was unknowing to what he was about to see. Dead bodies wrapped in white sheets fill the back parking lot in rows and rows even being stacked on top of each other and once Rick was able to get his sight back and sees what was in front of him he goes numb—he was so dazed at what was beheld in front of him he didn't know what was happening. Dead bodies littered the lot like a grave site. He didn't know what was going on and what the world had become—he didn't know what the world beheld now.

Rick goes into the street and sees cars turned over everywhere and glass shattered on the pavement—he could feel the broken shards poking at his bare feet even. The whole street looked like the biggest wreck ever—debris littering the street as well and looking like there had been a giant riot. But the odd thing was that there wasn't anybody in sight, it was like a ghost town, and it even felt like a ghost town. It was so quiet and unnerving to say the least.

Rick started weaving his way down the street and by now he was beyond exhausted but he needed to get home—to find Lori and Carl—his wife and only kid and find out what the heck was going on. After five maybe ten minutes of hiking down the street up ahead Rick spotted an old looking red bicycle lying in the uncut green grass in front of a big house with its door ripped apart.

Rick approached the bike cautiously and upon nearing he saw dead woman lying in the grass next to the bike. Her lower half was torn away and her spine and entrails were half-hazardly hanging out. She was moderately decayed and rotted looking and her once blonde hair had mostly fallen out by now and looked sort of on the decomposed side. Her white blouse had almost molded to her rotted skin and was slowly disintegrating by the day as so was the woman's body—or whatever was left of her body.

Rick bended down a little and reached for the red bike but as soon as he did so the dead woman started to move and she turned her head and looked at Rick with her lifeless eyes. Rick dropped the bike and stumbled backwards onto the sidewalk. He couldn't believe what he had just seen—he thought she was dead…wasn't she? She was missing half her body!

Working up the courage though Rick leaned down and grabbed the bike's handle bars and lifted it up and hopped on—pedaling away from the dead corpse. Rick finally arrived at his house and as soon as he pedaled into the driveway he hopped off and dropped the old red bike in the front lawn and stalked up to the house noticing that all the windows were shattered and the screens were ripped open and the front door was wide open. He tore through the already open door woozy and winded, all the while confused and worried. Why would the front door be wide open and why were the window busted out?

The house was trashed—curtains were torn, the furniture was flipped over and various items were scattered about the house and also, the picture frames on the walls were gone. A much panicked Rick screamed out for his wife and kid, "LORI…CARL!?"

There was no answer. Rick continued searching through the trashed house but came up empty handed and found out that the photo albums were also gone. He left the trashed and empty house and took a seat on the front porch steps trying to process everything. He looked around and it was so silent…there was nobody around. It was just him and he was all alone…or so he thought.

In the middle of the street there was a man idly ambling by aimlessly. A little hope sparked inside Rick; maybe he could ask the man some questions. Rick quietly waved at the man and the man seeing Rick sitting on the front steps waving at him turned in Rick's direction and started shuffling over to him.

The figure was coming closer and was almost too where Rick was sitting until out of the blue Rick heard small footsteps behind him and he whipped around and all he saw was a shovel inches from his face—it slammed right into his nose and Rick was thrown to the cement pavement and was consumed by blotchy darkness and Rick could faintly hear a voice that sounded like its coming from a distance.

"Daddy…Daddy!" A little boy's voice called out.

Rick mistook the little boy's voice as his own son's voice, Carl's and Rick subtly shifted on the pavement and grunted out, "Carl…."

The little boy called out again, "Daddy! I got this sum-bitch! I'm gonna smack him dead!"

Rick, half conscious turned his head on the pavement out to the street and with his vision coming back slightly he saw the shuffling man from before stumbling over the curb and then another man come out of nowhere and shoot the shuffling man right in the head. Rick, with blurry vision, saw blood splatter everywhere and then he heard the thud as the heavy body fell to the pavement. Rick averted his gaze and looked up at a little boy's face and an older man's face came into view with a revolver pointed right at Rick's forehead.

The older man looked over at the little boy, "Wait…is he one of them?"

Rick—obviously confused was wondering who were them?

The little boy looked over at his father, "Looks like it."

The older man pushed his son behind him and leaned down to Rick who was lying on the cement pavement, "Mister?"

Rick, dazed by the sun and the blow to the face just blinked and didn't answer the older man.

The older man continued but was speaking to his son this time, "He say something? I thought I heard him say something."

The little boy answered his father, "He called me Carl."

The older man looked sternly at his son, "You know they don't talk."

Rick still gazing up at the blue sky and the two guys above him saw the older one lean in closer to him and speak, "Mister, what's the bandage for?"

Rick mustered up the strength to reply this time, but wasn't sure what the man just asked, "Wha—what?"

"What kind of wound? Hey, can you hear me?"

The older man was getting more irritated by the second and uneasy and he shoved his revolver right in Rick's face until the cold barrel was touching Rick's sweaty forehead. The older man yelled at Rick, "Answer me…damn you! What's your wound? Tell me or I'll kill you!"

Rick attempted to answer the man but unconsciousness overtook him and he delved back into darkness with the pack of matches in his palm along with the note.

**FADE OUT**

* * *

As I was holding my bruised ribcage I heard a 'THUNK!' and I turned my head to see Samantha laying on the floor right next to me unable to move just like me. She had fresh tears staining her cheeks and her brown eyes were full of fright.

One of the men, I recognized as Dave's voice, spoke, "So who shall we have fun with first…"

He eyed Samantha first then me. The hair on the back of my neck rose and I avoided eye contact. He cocked his head at me and gave me a sickly grin then he glanced over at Samantha then back to me and spoke tauntingly, "Actually…change of plans. How about we give you front row seat—you get to watch."

I choked back the acid coming up from my throat and I was pretty sure I pulled a face because now he was laughing at me. He then waved at his friend Tony to come over and he motioned for him to grab Samantha up and the rest of the guys to go upstairs to get something.

I fidgeted in my spot and wriggled around, tying to loosen the duct tape. It wasn't any use because it sheer minutes the men that went upstairs were dragging down Samantha's husband and one of the men had her baby cradled in his arms.

My heart sped up a beat and I could feel myself getting panicked. What were they going to do? Dave gripped my elbow and pulled me up to my feet roughly and his large hand remained gripped on my elbow.

Tony had Samantha on the floor already face down and he was nearly ripping off her shirt and the other men forced Samantha's husband on his knees right in front of her. They untied his blindfold—which was a makes shift doo rag and I could see Samantha's eyes meet with her husbands. They were filled with sorrow and humiliation. I couldn't bear to watch this. I tried squirming out of Dave's grasp but he gripped my arm tighter until it started hurting my arm and then I tried turning my head away. He grabbed my face and roughly turned it back and kept his hand planted on my face forcefully, pinching my skin.

I watched in mortification as Tony finally got Samantha's shirt off and then he pulled down her jeans and underwear and he pulled down his own pants and all I heard were Samantha's cries and pleas to stop.

My vision was blurry and I started screaming every curse known to man and I yelled at the men to stop—for Tony to stop but no one was listening. They all looked amused at my fetal attempt to do all I could. I started struggling again in Dave's arm and this time a lot harder and I managed to break his grasp but I went face first towards the floor. I quickly rolled over to my back and as he bent over to snatch me up off the floor again but I brought my tied feet up and rammed them right in his ugly face. He fell backwards and had his hand gripping his bleeding nose and I swiftly wormed my way to my feet and in that instance I was tackled to the ground by his other men and a sound of a gun went off and I heard Samantha cry out and I heard a body slump to the ground. I froze over the mens' grasp as they grabbed me up and pulled me back to my feet and I saw who got shot. Samantha's husband was collapsed dead on the ground with a bullet to the back of his head. Tony was finished with Samantha and I watched as he pulled his pants up and he hacked up a bunch of spit and snot and spit it right on Samantha's hair.

That was it, I could feel my frame shake with rage and I wriggled around and I just snapped, "HEY YOU FAT PIECE OF SHIT! WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? YOU SICK TWISTED SON OF A BITCH! YOU'RE SO FUCKING—"

I was cut off by something being stuffed into my mouth and one of the men dragged me off and back upstairs to the room. He threw me to the ground winked at me and spoke, "Tomorrow sweet cheeks your up with the big guy."

He left smiling and amused and I was left fuming angry and numb. I didn't want that fat fuck to go near me. I couldn't imagine his sweaty body hovering over me and…I shook my head of the gross thoughts and tears started falling freely down my face. I didn't even notice when one of the men threw Samantha in the room until I finally took a second to calm down. I noticed her huddling in the corner again with just her blood soaked underwear on and her ripped shirt and her face was void of all emotions—it was like she was statue.

I spit the rag out of my mouth and went to say something but my mind couldn't conjure a single thing to say to her. I didn't think words could fix anything at the moment considering she just lost her husband and she was just raped in front of him and her baby.

And as I sat there just thinking to myself I had an idea. I immediately put it in action and in doing so I got to a sitting position and I brought my tied up hands underneath my legs and out so that my tied hands were right in front of me. Samantha glanced over at me with a confused expression plastered on her face, then she spoke, "What are you doing?"

I looked up at her and gave her tiny smirk, "We're getting out of here."

She quickly adorned a sour face and gave me a strange look, "Why? We're dead anyways and it's not like I have anything to live for anymore."

I frowned at her, "Yes…you do. You have your baby to live for don't you?"

She turned away from me and looked at a wall looking like she was lost in thought—weighing an internal decision with herself.

All the while I had my tied up hands up to my face and I was ripping the duct tape with my teeth. I managed to get some of it ripped—but enough to loosen it up and rip the rest off. I threw the chunk of duct tape over in the corner and started undoing the duct tape on my ankles with quick fingers and quite a bit of effort. I managed to free my legs and once out of the restraints I strode over to Samantha and she looked up into my eyes, "You're right."

And that was all she said and I went to work on undoing her restraints. Once she was free she rubbed her wrists which were pretty red and she got to her feet and spoke, "So what's your plan?"

I gave her a small smile and nodded my head over to the window.

Her eyes widened and she looked back to me, "We're on the second floor…we would probably break a leg or arm or something if we jumped out the window…we can't make it out of here from the window."

I shook my head and pointed at the window, "Look, there's vines, there must be something training them to grow on the side of the house—probably a trellis fence. We could climb down it and in that shack behind the house I have a bag of guns stashed along with some fuel. My car is down the road from here about 8-10 miles maybe more but it works."

She looked skeptical but seeming as we didn't have any other plans she decided to nod her head and go with it but there was one thing she asked me, "What about my baby?"

I knew she was going to ask so I told her my plan on that. We were going to block the door with the dresser and bed and climb down the trellis fence and we were going to grab my fuel and bag of guns and supplies and surprise the men. With my guns I was a lot more heavily armed then they were and with a sneak attack they wouldn't see what was coming. I asked Samantha if she knew how to shoot but she informed me that she had only shot a gun once but she could try. I told her we were just going to have to make do then.

Sticking to the plan we pushed the heavy bed and dresser in front of the door together with some muscle and effort and we successfully made it down the trellis with no problem at all and all in less than ten minutes. We sprinted across the back yard into the shack and I told her to wait outside to stay on the lookout. I fished my bag of guns and hunting pack from out of the cubby and I swiped the dropped hammer from off the ground. I must have dropped it when the men came toppling over me. I threw it in with the bag of guns and weapons and I strode outside. Samantha ogled my bag for a moment before I told her to come with me to the side of the house—out of site.

I gave her one of the handguns from the duffel bag and told her to only use it when necessary and aim for the head. I also gave her the gut hook hunting knife and told her if she ran out of ammo to use that. She nodded her head while I spoke but I could see she was pretty scared. I was too, but I couldn't afford to show it. I had a task to complete.

So I geared up with my AK-47 and a handgun stuffed into my waistband. I couldn't carry extra ammo since I didn't have any pockets so I made sure that each gun was fully loaded. I stole a glance over at Samantha and she had a flabbergasted expression plastered on.

"What?" I asked while making sure both guns were ready to use.

She met my curious gaze and with her wondering astounded gaze and spoke, "Where did you get all those guns at?!"

I finished checking the guns and replied, "Found at least half of them and the other half I sort of…inherited you could say?"

"Oh…"

With that I hid the bag of guns and fuel can in the cab of the old Chevy truck and returned back to the side of the house and Samantha and I snuck around the corner and crouched down by the front window.

Quietly I motioned for her to stay crouched down and ever so cautiously I popped my head up and peered through the dusty unclean window and into the house. All the men were laughing and smiling like the happiest sons of bitches on the planet. That only fueled my anger but I didn't care that much since they were oblivious to the fact that Samantha and I were gone.

Carefully I raised my AK-47 up and steadied my arm aiming the barrel on one of the men. In an instant bullets were spraying out of the barrel like a bunch of angry hornets out of their nest. I could hear the glass shatter and some of the shards fell on top of me and then I could hear panicked filled scrams and angry shouting—I was pretty positive I got one of them.

Releasing my finger off the trigger I ducked back down so my head wasn't an open target and holding my breath I was frozen in my spot waiting for any movement in the house. There wasn't anything, the air was filled with dead silence and there wasn't any screaming or shouting anymore. Finally I released my anxious breath I forgot I was holding and motioned for Samantha to follow close behind me. She nodded and I took off sprinting quickly to the front door.

I crouched down with Samantha right behind me and preparing myself I burst through the door—Ak-47 held up ready to pump out bullets and my finger on the trigger. A man darted across the room and swiftly I aimed and shot.. He made it behind the wall unscathed before I could unload a bullet in his sorry ass.

Taking a peek behind me and I saw Samantha had her pistol raised but her arms were shaking. She noticed me glancing at her and I could see she attempted to gather her bearings. Quite frankly I was scared out of my mind too but I was pretty sure anger and fuming rage was overtaking me right now and giving me the courage to do this. I glanced back in front of me and swallowed the lump coming up in my throat back down and inched my way forward.

I couldn't see any of the men and I didn't know where any of them were hiding at except for the man just up ahead behind the wall and as I was closing in I tightened my grip on my gun and then all of sudden the man jumped out with his gun raised at me—wait _my_ gun in his hands raised—and he shot but Samantha and I ducked just in time and before he could take another shot I brought my gun up and pulled the trigger. Numerous bullets tore through his chest and he jerked back and forth and when I finally let go of the trigger the man slumped to the floor and my Grand Puissance handgun clunked to the ground.

Quickly I ran up to him and swiped my gun out of his hand and I noticed that my bowie knife was stuffed in his waistband. I retrieved that and I saw he wasn't dead yet. But quite frankly I wasn't sure if I even_ wanted_ him dead. I'm no cold blooded murderer, I was just a lone woman trying to help out another woman get her baby back—but I couldn't help but feel sympathy towards the man who was currently gasping for air on the ground and clutching his bullet-holed chest that was at the moment bleeding out. I know he was a part of a ruthless gang and all but still, I couldn't help it. Deep down though I know I'm probably doing the world a huge favor and he was probably a deadbeat loser before this apocalyptic world and still is—just like my father, except I didn't know if my father was still alive or not; and thinking about it now I really didn't care if my father got torn apart by flesh eating freaks. He kind of had it coming—karma. But the very thought of my father brought me back to my senses and the reality of the situation here but before I could end this man's existence forever Samantha pushed past me and put four bullets into his forehead. I jumped with each shot that reverberated off the walls and I looked over at her.

She looked back up to me and we made eye contact and I could see the blood lust clearly blazing in her eyes. I was shocked by what I saw. She wasn't shaking like a leaf anymore like before and before her eyes were kind and fearful. She cocked her gun and pushed forward so I trailed behind her.

Following her we moved towards the staircase and she motioned for me to stay at the bottom and wait for her—I nodded and she disappeared upstairs. After a few minutes I was still waiting for her and I was getting impatient. We couldn't chance staying here for long—the men could be anywhere.

But as I was chewing on the inside of my cheek nervously I heard a creek and immediately I raised my gun. There wasn't anyone. So I started drifting away from the stairs slowly until I heard something again, footsteps coming from right behind me. I whirled around and expecting to see Samantha at least I was surprised to see one of the men coming at me with a large hunting knife. In a rush I raised my gun and wasted no time in pulling the trigger. He fell limp to the ground and I was left stunned for a moment. I could see dark red blood start to pool around his body and the puddle of blood started growing in size—seeping over to me. I took a step back to avoid the puddle of blood and then I heard something. It was Samantha's panicked shout asking if I was alright from the top of the staircase. I could faintly make out an upset baby crying. And in that moment I couldn't form any words to reply to Samantha. What could I have said? I looked up at her and noticed she was clutching her tiny baby to her chest and she was still waiting for me to answer so I gave her half-hearted thumbs up.

She didn't look too convinced but I really didn't care—it was time to get the heck out of here but before I could turn around and head out the door I saw a man rushing towards Samantha from behind. I must have looked panicked though because Samantha started turning her head to see what I was looking at but it was too late.

Instantly the man's large body connected with Samantha's smaller frame and she was rammed further into the staircase guardrail. I heard a snap of wood and splitting and then Samantha's blood-curling scream.

The baby slipped right out of Samantha's arms and it was falling from the second floor. It was going to hit the first floor and without thinking I dropped my gun and dove for the infant just in time before it hit the ground. Catching the baby I was immediately relieved having just nearly had a heart attack but that wasn't the worst of everything yet. Just as I thought things couldn't get any worse I hear a familiar sound; wheels crunching against gravel and the squeak of a vehicle coming to a stop. I jumped to my feet with the small infant in one arm and retrieved my gun off the floor, holding it in the other arm and I could hear car doors slamming shut.

Sounded like these men had company—and company sounded a whole lot like back and back-up wasn't good news; especially for Samantha and I. Now we were probably severely outnumbered. And as I was sorting through my thoughts a gunshot echoed loudly throughout the house and I was pulled out of my thoughts. I whipped around and saw Samantha shoving the large dead guy off her and she quickly got to her feet and sprinted downstairs to my side and she took her baby out of my arm.

We momentarily met each others eyes and we both knew it was time to get out so we lit out of the house through the back door and across the backyard and hoofed it into the neighboring field that had no crops planted so it was just a bare field. We kept up the pace until we had about a mile to cover until we would hit the thick Georgian woods and we would be safer—hopefully.

My hopes though were shortly lived; I decided to look back and there were about ten men maybe more with guns and they were hot on our heels. I saw one of them abruptly stop in his place and he aimed his rifle, right at me. My heart skipped a beat and all of a sudden I stumbled and my feet caught on the rough landscape of the field and I went flying to the ground hard all at the same time I heard a gunshot echo in the air. I watched as the bullet pierced the lumpy dirt right in front of me inches from my face. My heart was pounding all the way up to my ears and all I could think about was how close that was. We had to make it to those woods.

I pushed myself up off the ground and onto my feet again and yelled at Samantha who was a few paces ahead of me, "FASTER—THEY'RE FOLLOWING US AND THEY'RE SHOOTING!"

You didn't need to tell her twice. She picked up the pace and as did I until I caught up with her and we were side by side. Just one mile and we would be out of the open field. I set my mind on that one task and set to it—pumping my legs as hard as I could as I could hear bullets whizzing past me and finally depositing into the lumpy ground.

We were almost to the edge of the woods, just a couple more steps until I heard another gunshot pop off and Samantha dropped to the ground. Immediately I halted and dropped down in a crouch next to Samantha. Glancing up I could see the men were about 3 minutes away from us maybe 5. My heart raced and I was starting to get really sweaty. I looked back down at Samantha and I could see a gaping bullet wound in the back of her head and blood slowly oozing out and trickling down her matted hair.

I could feel myself get slightly light-headed but I didn't have time to feel sick at the moment. So pushing my thoughts and feelings away despite everything with great mental effort I rolled her over and her baby was wailing in her arms. It had a small bloody nose from the fall as well. Without a second thought I picked the infant up one arm and before the men could finally catch up and shoot me down I darted into the woods like a wild frantic deer being hunted down. Actually that is exactly how I felt at that moment.

Shaking my head I pushed myself harder and into the woods with fresh tears streaming down my round cheeks and a wailing baby at my hip. I had exactly no idea where to hide and even if I did they would hear the baby. I only had one option and that was to run as far as I could without stopping. I was in pure survival mode now and running on adrenaline. But after about 10-15 minutes I could feel myself wearing out and the woods was getting pretty blurry and my thoughts were all jumbled up; I was feeling light-headed again.

I couldn't stop even though I was gasping for air and felt like I was about to pass out any moment. I had to distance myself as far as I could from that house and hope the men would get tired and head back. The baby needed to be safe. So forcing myself to keep pushing I mustered up all my strength and whatever reserved energy I had and continued running through the brush and past the trees. After who knows how long I finally couldn't take it anymore, I had to stop and rest. I ran out of energy and collapsed onto the ground, the world spinning and whirling as I was looking up. I was so exhausted and drained I wasn't sure I could go any farther. I wanted to go to sleep and never wake up again, but obviously I couldn't. The baby was still wailing at the top of its lungs and piercing the silent air. If the men were still following me they would certainly be able to find me. They would hear the infant crying out loud.

I took a second though to actually look at the baby before I got back to my feet. It had light brown eyes and tiny little baby hairs on the top of its head and its face was plump and he had tiny chubby baby hands. If my heart could melt it would. Even with its face contorted into its crying face it was so cute.

Sighing I forced myself up to my shaky feet and continued pushing on this time in a jog as to not push myself to the point of killing _myself._ I was actually feeling pretty good, like I had actually escaped until I felt a bullet whiz right past the front of my face and the baby's wailing abruptly fell short and stopped. I felt the baby go limp in my arm and its head fell against my chest and I froze. Warm sticky liquid started seeping down the front of my white tank top and down my chest and down my stomach—soaking my tank top in blood. The baby's soft face was lying against my chest and I could feel myself start to get choked up—I was officially breaking down.

And as I was frozen to my spot I waited. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a few men come dashing out and I feebly tried running away but a hand grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked me backwards. I stumbled and then something rock hard slammed against my jaw and the force of the hit was so hard it threw me to the ground. The dead baby rolled out of my arm and my gun dropped as well. I could taste the taste of rusty copper pooling in my mouth and coating my teeth. I knew my lip was split and something inside my mouth was bleeding. And I only had a split second before pain-filled hits connected with my skin, my body, my face, all over and I literally went numb.

A boot rammed into the side of my ribcage and I gasped and choked on my own blood. I sputtered and coughed and punches started directing their way to my face. I tried shielding with my arms but it proved to be un-useful. By the time the men were done beating me to a pulp I felt dull pain ache all over my small body and I just felt empty.

But I guess the men weren't finished with me yet. One of them yanked me up from the ground by my arm and I numbly felt somebody pull my clothes off my sweaty, bloody and battered body. The man threw me to the ground stripped bare and naked and I faintly heard my clothes hit the ground. One man spoke up, "Just leave the bitch here—"

He was cut off by somebody else, "We can't just leave her…what will we tell Dave?"

The first man replied in a snark tone, "We tell him she's dead—anyway she's just lamebrain bait now. Mine as well be dead."

The second man didn't reply so I assumed he figured what the other man said was true. So after listening to the men scurry away I was left completely and utterly alone and I just let it out. I let _everything_ out—the pain, misery, my destroyed childhood, my hatred towards my once loving father that I wished I could have had some way a little while longer with him before he lost his way, the death of everyone I've met or seen since the virus outbreak got really bad, Mark's face when he left my driveway—how he looked so disappointed, being alone, angry, scared and lost all my life with no one to guide me, just everything I needed to let out. I balled my eyes out until I couldn't produce a tear no more and I was left sniveling on the hard ground in complete darkness surrounding me. It was night-time and I should probably make an effort to get up, wipe my nose and find my dirt and blood-stained clothes before something comes out and decides I'm their late night snack.

So heaving myself up I got to my shaky feet and blindly searched the ground for my clothes. Finding them a minute later I pulled them on and started searching for my Ak-47, Grand Puissance, extra pistol I grabbed and bowie knife. I eventually found them and swiped them back up and that's when it hit me. My bag of guns and fuel can were still hidden in the cab of the old Chevy truck. I needed those guns—_my_ guns. There was only one way to go about that, I had to go back to the house.

So after stumbling and tripping over sticks and stumps and bumping into trees in the forest I hoped I would eventually end up in the empty field. The crescent moon was radiating off a little bit of light and so were the tiny stars up in the sky. It was actually quite beautiful—the night was silent and warm and somewhat relaxing.

It was day break, first morning light, when I eventually found my way to the field. Throughout the night I got lost a few times but I was glad when I staggered out into the field and I could faintly see the outline of the house and the small shack. I was past the point of exhaustion though and hungry, in pain, sweaty, pissed of , miserable, and I was sure I smelt terrible.

But I knew I had to push those thoughts and feelings away and focus. Pretty soon it was going to be blindingly light outside and sweltering hot. I needed to make it across the empty field to the truck before I got spotted by one of the men from the group. So quickening my pace I kept on until I was coming up right behind the shanty shack. I had to make this quick and fast—like capture the flag and get out of here and back to my lonely car sitting on the side of the road. The thought of walking another 10 miles was not a good thought but I had to do it.

**FADE OUT (SAME DAY MORNING TIME)**

* * *

Rick walks outside with Morgan by his side and Duane trailing behind them, all being cautious. He spent the night with Morgan and Duane and they informed him about the dead people lurking around. At first he thought they were crazy but when he actually took a second to mull everything over he realized maybe they weren't so crazy after all. It sort of made sense—all those dead people outside the hospital and then that woman torn in half, dead, by that bicycle. It was a hard thing to grasp but Rick knew he had to accept the fact.

As he followed Morgan he noticed a dead man slumped over a curb and Rick had to ask to make sure though, "We're sure they're dead?"

Morgan glances over at Rick with a stern look on his face.

Rick notices the look that Morgan is giving him and speaks up to defend himself, "I know, but I have to ask; at least one more time."

Morgan slightly nods his head, "They're dead."

Rick and Morgan keep on walking ahead onto the street until Rick sees the dead corpse on the curb rise and start to stumble after the both of them. Without a second thought Rick takes the bat he is holding and with a few good hits he smashes the corpses head in. The corpse collapses to the ground finally dead.

Rick continues down the street with Morgan and Duane and Rick looks over at his house and points at it and speaks, grabbing Morgan's attention, "That porch—where you found me, you ever see anybody over there?"

Morgan looks to where Rick is pointing and shakes his head, "By the time we got here the area was pretty deserted; though I saw a few people scurry out, a few last holdouts, but not that house."

They trio makes there way over to Rick's deserted and wrecked house and Rick leads the way in. Once inside Morgan looks around doubting Rick's word that his family is still alive. With the look of the house messed up like this Morgan didn't think Rick's family could possibly be alive.

Rick speaks up, looking over at Morgan, "They're alive…my wife and son."

Morgan, again doubtful looks around the house. Rick notices Morgan's unconvinced expression and then he adds quietly, "At least they were when they left."

Morgan raises his eyebrows, wondering how Rick knows or believes that, "How can you know? From the look of this place…"

Rick sharply cuts Morgan off, "I found empty drawers in the bedroom. They packed some clothes. Not all, they were in a hurry, but enough to travel."

Morgan hesitates at first but decides to say it, "Anybody could have broken in here and stolen clothes."

Rick looks around and gazes at the wall, shaking his head refusing to believe Morgan, "See the framed photos on the walls?"

Morgan looks around again and notices that there aren't any framed photos at all indeed.

Rick notices Morgan's wondering look, seeing he was getting through to him, "Neither do I. Some random thief take those too?"

Out of nowhere Rick strides over to a cabinet across the room and in a rush he pulls it open and rummages through it wildly, "Our photo albums, family pictures, all gone."

Morgan shakes his head and in a trance almost speaks to no one in particular, "Photo albums."

Rick glances over at him and sees him shake his head and then drop onto the arm of the couch and he starts laughing, "My wife…same goddamn thing. There I am packing survival shit, she's grabbing photo albums."

Morgan laughs until he starts to tear up and he manages to wipe them away just before Duane waltzes into the doorway and looks over to Rick, "They're in Atlanta I bet."

Morgan ponders what his son just said and nods, looking over at Rick, "That's right. If they got out of here okay, they're in Atlanta."

Rick cocks his head at Morgan and wonders why his family would be in Atlanta. He decides to ask him, "Why there? Atlanta?"

Morgan answers, "Refugee center. A huge one they said. Before the broadcasts stopped. Military protection, food, shelter. Told people to go there. Said it'd be the safest."

Duane adds in, "Plus they got that disease place."

Morgan nods, "Center for disease control. Said they were working out how to solve this thing."

Rick is still standing in his place absorbing this new information and getting a spark of hope that his family is still out there somewhere—safe and alive.

Rick starts for the kitchen and Morgan and Duane follow him. Rick turns the corner and on the wall there are a bunch of hooks with keys hanging up and Rick grabs the pair he needs.

**FADE OUT**

* * *

On the side of the road it was roasting outside and I was on fire. Sweat dripped off my forehead and rolled down my neck and down my chest. I felt completely gross and sticky. I successfully made it away from the house with my duffel bag, hunting pack and fuel can without being spotted though and I was thankful for that. Now I just had the long walk to my car and I couldn't wait to get some food and water and then get the heck off this highway and to Atlanta.

After about two hours I could see my car sitting just up ahead so I took my small hunting pack off my shoulder and rummaged around in one of the pockets for the key. I found it and fished it out and zipped the pocket back up, slinging the pack back over my shoulder. Finally I made it and without wasting any time I strolled over to the back and opened the door but there was something missing. My food was gone. I felt anger immediately run through my body and I threw my pack and duffel bag in the back infuriated and slammed the door shut. The car shook a bit from the force but I didn't really care. I was beyond annoyed—I was going to need to stop somewhere to search for food—whether I liked it or not; just great. I only had two bottles of water left and a banana and orange.

**FADE OUT**

* * *

Duane went off to go get dressed with the clothes Rick just gave him. They were Carl's clothes and Rick figured that they would fit him. At the moment they all just got done showering in the police station's shower stalls and Rick was sitting on one of the benches with Morgan right next to his side.

Rick, looking over at Morgan and thinking about Atlanta speaks, "Atlanta sounds like a good deal. Safer anyway…people."

Morgan glances at Rick, "That's where we we're headed. Things got crazy…lots of panic. Streets weren't fit to be on. Then…my wife; couldn't travel, not with her hurt. Had to find a place and lay low."

After a few seconds Morgan adds a little more solemn, "After she died, we just stayed hunkered down. I guess we just froze in place."

Rick who is getting an idea planted in his mind asks, "Plan to move on?"

Morgan sighs, "When we're ready." And then looks up to Rick with a shamed look in his eyes, "Haven't worked up to it yet."

Rick doesn't say anything back but he just shares a long look with Morgan and nods his head respecting Morgan's decision to stay put for a little while longer.

**FADE OUT**

* * *

After putting fuel in my car I had at least over half a tank but less than a full one. But it was enough for me to make it to Atlanta and when I got there hopefully there was a refugee center with food and water or something or maybe I could raid a place for food and water…and maybe some clothes. I ended up eating the orange and banana I packed in my hunting pack earlier and chugged a full water bottle. It wasn't that good and it didn't really fill me up but at least it was something and the water quenched my thirst.

So as of now I was speeding down the highway with the windows rolled down letting the warm air circulate through the hot stale car and I was on my way to Atlanta.

**FADE OUT**

* * *

Rick just got done asking Morgan if he was sure he wouldn't come along with him and Morgan told him maybe another week and he and Duane wouldn't be too bad of shooters and they would be ready to travel on the road. Rick accepted Morgan's answer and reaches into his SHERIFF bag of guns. He pulls out a walkie talkie that works and gets static and passes it over to Morgan who takes the talkie.

"You got one battery. I'll turn mine on a few minutes every day at dawn. You get up there, that's how you find me."

Morgan is impressed with Rick, "You think ahead."

Rick in all seriousness, "Can't afford not to. Not anymore."

Morgan nods and thinks of something he needs to tell Rick, "One thing…they may not seem like much, one at a time. But in a group? Riled up and hungry? Hell, you better watch your ass."

Rick takes in the new information and speaks, "You watch yours."

Morgan brings his arm out in front of him offering Rick a handshake, "You're a good man Rick. I hope you find your wife and son." Rick takes Morgan's hand and they shake hands.

Duane walks up to tell Rick goodbye as well. Rick notices him, "Be seeing you Duane. Take care of your old man."

Duane nods, "Yes sir." But is distracted by something and shifts his gaze.

Rick turns his head as well and sees a dead corpse on the other side of the chain link fence, snarling hungrily at the trio. The corpse is wearing a raggedy old police uniform—similar to the one Rick had on—and slowly and cautiously Rick walks over to the fence to investigate.

He notices the name tag—Leon Basset. Rick remembered him as the rookie. The former officer staggers over the fence and stops seeing Rick standing there—food. It starts grabbing at the fence and snarling and moaning. Rick is sickened but knows what should be done. He grabs his gun out of his holster and aims the barrel right at the middle of the corpses head and takes a glance over at Morgan, "Leon Basset…didn't think much of him; careless and dumb. But I can't leave him like this."

Morgan knows Rick wants to put the corpse down but he knows the shot will only attract noise, "They'll hear the shot."

Rick weighs the risks and makes a final decision, "Then let's not be here when they show up."

Morgan nods his head thinking that was fine with him and backs off leaving Rick to tend to his business, heading over to the car with Duane trailing behind him.

Rick takes a deep breath and before he can change his mind he strolls over to the chain link fence all the way and presses the gun up to the corpse's forehead and Rick pulls the trigger. There's a massively loud shot and the corpses head snaps backwards and blood splatters everywhere and it crumples to the ground.

Morgan is already getting in his car and Rick turns back around and head to his own car—a police cruiser and without another word from the three men they go their own separate ways.

Rick heads back down the street and makes a few turns before he comes upon the street where he found the corpse that was missing half its body next to the bicycle. He pulls up to the curb and putting the cruiser into park he gets out—entering the park. Rick walks up to where he last seen the corpse but there's nothing, just bare grass. At first Rick is confused and walks a little further on and finally sees the corpse about 100 yards away crawling sluggishly away—it's entrails and spine dragging on the grass all the while.

Rick decides to go walk up next to the unfortunate dead woman and he simply stares down at her…curious somewhat. At first it doesn't notice him but then it starts catching a whiff of Rick's scent and she turns her slowly decaying head towards him and starts gnawing at the air and reaching her hands out pathetically, trying to get a meal. He observes the corpse and can't help but feel sorry for her. She had a life before all this and maybe she had a family like his, children and a husband. He shakes his head and sighs.

Rick crouches down, pulls his pistol out of his holster and speaks softly, "I'm sorry this happened to you." And in a flash Rick aims the gun and shoots watching as the bullet rips through her skull leaving a gaping hole and ending her miserable life as dead corpse. He stands up and without looking back he walks away back to his cruiser.

After shooting the dead corpse Rick headed out of King County and started on the highway, heading for Atlanta. He has his window cracked a little bit to let in some fresh air and he was currently trying to call over the radio set trying to get anyone to hear him desperately. If someone was out there he hoped they would hear him broadcasting.

"Broadcasting on emergency band…traveling down Highway-85…anyone out there…anyone hear my voice…"

Rick waits a moment for anything but there isn't anything; just crackling silence. He takes a second to look down at his gas gauge and sees that the red needle has dropped drastically and it was on low. He was going to run out of gas before he even made it to Atlanta. Now concerned about the fuel Rick tries desperately to call for anyone again, "Hello…hello, can anybody hear my voice…"

There's still nothing and Rick is getting less hopeful by the minute. He keeps trying though, "Anyone out there…can anyone hear me…please respond…hello…can you hear my voice."

Rick still hears nothing but static and crackling, "Broadcasting on emergency channel…traveling on Highway-85…if anyone reads, please respond…"

Rick sighs and gives up finally clicking off the radio and hangs it back up. Up ahead thankfully he sees a gas station and he pulls up, passing all the abandoned cars and finally coming to a stop. Rick steps out and listens to the eerie silence and the gentle tapping of the metal sign hanging up that read NO GAS. Momentarily he's astonished at all the empty cars that were abandoned. He couldn't imagine how much panic went on when all the people tried getting supplies and fuel for themselves.

He sighs and cautiously walks around the abandoned area and occasionally sees a dead person slumped in their driver seat or lying face down on the pavement. Feeling like he's in a graveyard Rick is about to turn around and head back to his cruiser until he hears shuffling. He crouches down and hears more shuffling again and he can tell it's coming from a few rows over. He slowly gets down on his hands and knees and lies down on his stomach looking underneath the abandoned car and he sees tiny feet in little fuzzy bunny slippers stumbling around. He watches as the little girl bends down and he only sees her arms reach for a stuffed animal not too far from where she was stumbling around at.

The only thing running through Rick's mind was that he had to help the little girl. She was probably lost or something. So Rick quickly got back on his feet and came out of his hiding spot cautiously not wanting to scare her and he weaved through the abandoned cars and he finally saw the little girl walking away with an awkward stance and back to Rick, stuffed teddy bear hanging from her tiny hand. He noticed her dirty pale legs and she was wearing a baby pink bath robe. Her hair was also matted. She must have been lost for a while. Rick calls out, "Hey…little girl…little girl."

The little girl stops and looks around and Rick speaks again, "I'm a policeman. I'll help you. Don't be afraid, okay? Little girl?"

Rick waits for the little girl to turn around and once she does he is utterly shocked. She has deep sunken eyes and her flesh is pulled tight on her skull and cheek bones. Her lips are torn away as well and her teeth and gums are showing along with her braces. She's dead—a walking dead corpse.

Rick watches as a hungry glare forms in her eyes and he realizes he's food. She starts toward Rick with a quick stumble and starts snarling. Rick numbly staggers back and pulls out his python aiming at the little girl and he has a finger on the trigger. He pulls the trigger and the gunshot echoes loudly throughout the still air and the little girl corpse jerks back as the bullet goes through her forehead and she is thrown to the ground—officially dead.

Rick who is horrified with what he had to just do is now ready to leave the gas station. Especially when he looks around sees corpses rousing awake and start to get to their feet and climb out of the cars. Rick thought they were all _dead_. He didn't know so many weren't. Rick starts to hurry away as more and more dead corpses start to come out and he quickly makes his way out of the maze of cars back to his own car. There's walking corpses everywhere and Rick had no idea there were so many of them lurking around.

He finally comes around one of the cars and his cruiser is right in front of him. He jumps in the driver's side and without wasting time turns the key to start the engine and he abruptly backs the car out fast. Corpses appear outside the car windows and start to claw at the glass and Rick steps on the gas pedal, tearing out of the place and getting back on the highway.

A few more miles away from the gas station the cruiser starts sputtering and eventually it rolls to a stop out of gas. The only thing that Rick can hear is the engine ticking in the heat and he reaches back to grab the black duffel bag full of guns out and then he pops the trunk and steps out into the muggy heat. He walks around to the back where the trunk is and opens it pulling out his red gas can and he shuts the trunk hard. He was going to have to walk from here.

After about half an hour of walking down the highway dripping in sweat with the heavy duffel bag slung over Rick's shoulder he spots a small white farm house just across a very bare field. He steps off the highway and into the field and makes his way to the farmhouse; and after making his way over to the house and up the gravel driveway that looked like there were fresh tire marks Rick pasts an old Chevy red pickup and calls out, "Hello? Police officer out here! Can I borrow some gas?"

After all, Rick wasn't going to just steal somebody else's stuff without permission and it looked like somebody had just been here. Rick approaches the front door and knocks but there isn't an answer. It's dead silent. Rick sighs and wonders where the owners of the house are. He didn't want to think of the unthinkable happening. So Rick walks over to the window and peers curiously in. He's appalled as soon as he looks because sprawled out on the floor is a dead woman and on the couch is a dead man with a shotgun lying limply in his hands. There was a gaping bullet hole in his head and in the back of the woman's head. Rick retracts—the unthinkable happened and he walks out back behind the house and sees a small shanty shack. The doors are closed shut and Rick contemplates whether or not to go in there until he suddenly hears a whinny.

Turning Rick sees a horse grazing on grass in a nearby field. The horse lifts its head and looks at Rick. Rick unexpectedly gets an idea and he starts heading over to the field where the horse is feeding. Slowly he eases into the field being cautious as to not spook the horse. He has a rope looped in his hand that he found hanging on the fence and he is slowly approaching the horse. The horse looks up at Rick again and swivels its ears.

"Easy now…easy." Rick speaks out gently as the horse takes a nervous step away, uncertain of Rick.

He speaks again a little more confident, "Not gonna hurt you…nothing like that. More like a proposal."

Rick eases closer, "There's this place. Up the road a ways. It's safe. Food, shelter, people. Other horses too I bet. How's that sound?"

Rick is finally close enough to step up and slip the rope over the horse's head. He succeeds and leads the horse from the field and gets it all saddled up and ready to ride. He's a little anxious but he really didn't have any other option. He was determined to find his wife and son.

"I haven't done this for years. Let's go easy, okay?" He speaks with a little bit of nervous humor edged in his voice and he warily sets his foot in the stirrup. He waits to see what the horse will do but it just waits patiently for Rick to get on. So doing so Rick hoists himself up onto the saddle and he relaxes a little bit and then prods gently. The horse takes off in a slow walk as he sits atop jostling back and forth.

At first the horse is just walking then it starts trotting and then it starts to trot faster and pick up pace. Rick uneasily speaks out, "Whoa, whoa…" But the horse continues to pick up the pace and starts galloping.

"Whoa!" Rick yells not really sure what to do.

The horse isn't stopping and Rick just hangs onto the saddle until he gets used to the rhythm and eventually he actually starts enjoying himself. He was surprised…he didn't think he would ever be able to until he found Lori and Carl. He guessed wrong though and now he was on his way to Atlanta.

**Thanks for reading and being patient for me to update and I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please review, follow, favorite and PM me! I really want to know if you guys are liking this story! Chapter 9 or 10 will probably be when Scarlet meets up with the group and Rick so yay! Finally moving on :D Anyhow chapter 9 is being worked on! **


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